


I'll Never Call You Maestro

by JunipersHollow (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Fluff and Angst, Italy, Love Triangles, M/M, Slash, Tsunderes, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3418385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/JunipersHollow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romano felt a blush creep up the back of his neck and embarrassment redden his ears. Antonio widened his emeralds, befuddled. Elizabeta continued to laugh at the skit even though the two gawked at her silently in shock.<br/>"Roma, then," Romano was surprised at the sudden tanned hand ruffling his hair. "Can I call you Roma?" The cranky Italian felt like someone had pointed a universal remote at him with their finger pressed on the pause button. He wanted to smack that hand away and glare at the enemy who spoke in such a soft, affable tone. Muster up the cruelest Italian insults he had in the dictionary of his brain, and head butt the bastard all the way till next Diada Nacional de Catalunya.<br/>Yet, something was stopping him from doing all these things and telling the guy to get lost. This sensation, the feeling of fingers running through his thin brown hair. God, why this strange, familiar pang in his heart? Please, please don't make him feel grief again. It hurts too much to remember.</p><p>*Some more chapters after on Wattpad, but this won't be continued for I have not been a Hetalian in three years ;-;, ごめんね.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll Never Call This Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am finally able to continue this, FINALLY. I apologize for the wait to all of you, its been almost a year since I started this. I can tell you I am relieved as much a you are to be working on this again. Thankyou so much for your comments and reads on Wattpad, and I insist you make an account here on Ao3. It is an extremely easy thing to do and only takes a couple of days to complete registration. I hope you will continue to support me in my writings, and I will see you very soon with the new chapter coming out!  
> ~matanee  
> And to new readers, I welcome you and don't worry about the text above.
> 
> ALL CHARACTERS GO TO HIMARUYA HIDEKAZU. I DON'T OWN ANY OF THEM. That would be pretty awesome though.

Romano stared blankly at the gray ceiling above in his 9th period classroom full of chattering imps, annoyed that his summer vacation had ended so quickly and another hell-ish year in highschool had begun. This time around he'd be a sophmore, but it didn't really matter to Romano because no matter what grade he was in, he'd still have to deal with the same old retards who littered the planet with their insolent trifles and cliche lives.  
Pathetic. Romano mumbled under his breath. People who flourish in going to the movies with their "Top of the Squad" cheerleader girlfriend every weekend, or buying that new pair of Uggs for the 100th time should go die in a pit somewh- Romano stopped when the room began to quiet down as the bell rung and a tall figure entered the doorway of the classroom, out of breath.

Probably was going to the bathroom or something before when he heared the bell ring. Then he rushed here as fast as he could so he wouldn't fuck up the first day, idiota. Romano thought cynically with a smug. The classroom watched silently while the man plopped his bag and a stack of Spanish dictionaries on the teacher's desk, sighing in relief that he had made it to his own classroom in enough time before he was cut first day on the job. The man looked to be in his early 20s, his tan clearly stated he was a foriegner and his chocolate colored hair overlapped with curls, unike Roman's that refused to cooperate with any other style besides flat down on his head, the odd curl was an exception.

Romano watched, unamused as his new and absent minded teacher began to introduced himself, it was the same old repetitious introduction his eight other teachers had done so that day.

"W-well good afternoon everyone, I hope you had a good summer break! I know I did. I grew Los Tomates Ricos and took many siestas with my good old amiga Emma and - oh right! Almost forgot, I still havn't introduced myself yet have I, heh heh heh." He grinned like an idiot while placing his right hand on the teacher's desk, letting himself lean against it. Already the care free tone in his voice set Romano's teeth on edge.

A guy with silver hair chuckled about beating a fancy wuss at baseball with some narcissistic looking blonde three seats to his left, while a girl wearing a weirdly shapped hair pin stared daggers at the silver and gold. The teacher continued, much to his oblidge.

'My name is Antonio Fernando Carriedo and I have come from Espana to teach in South Italy. I hope we can all become good friends -" Friends!? Che palle! Who would want to be friends with an annoying ass such as yourself, dannazione (god damn)! Antonio kept talking oblivious to Romano's insults. But before he could finish, his hand that had been resting against his desk skidded off the surface, causing Antonio to lose his balance completely and tumbling to the floor with nothing to save him from the fall. There was a moment of silence before laughter broke out on all sides of the classroom, including Romano who was amused with the clumsy act his Spanish teacher had just performed. Is this guy for real? Romano thought. The unusual variant was rubbing at his side on the floor. He smiled that same idiotic smile again, although this time it seemed a bit cracked.

Antonio shakily got up on his feet as the students began to hush when he caught a specific pair of olive green eyes looking at him strangely. Romano immiediately noticed he was staring and quickly turned the opposite way, snubbing him. Che era troppo vicino per il comfort ( that was too close for comfort). He thought. He felt his face and cheeks increase in temperature, he wondered about the strange luke warm sensation that had suddenly appeared out of no where in the hollows of his chest. He stole another glance at Antonio to see if he was still looking but Antonio was gone. A few seconds later he came back into the classroom with a guitar case slung over his sholder.

Oh great. Thought Romano. Now he's going to play the guitar, hmph. I bet he can't even play. But Romano thought wrong, Antonio unzipped the Guitar case and carfully placed the light acoustic in his lap. He began to strum slowley with his finger tips, caressing each string like a butterfly's kiss. Antonio closed his eyes, creating beautiful notes with each stroke, and soon the class was swaying in unison to the acoustic's sound. The notes increased in speed as Antonio's hands strummed quicker, still keeping the rhthym. Romano was swaying too. His vision began to blur, but he could still see the tuneful chords created by Antonio's guitar in the pitch black of his eyelids. He drifted off into a world of soft oceans and starfilled skies.

Romano felt calm. It was strange for him to feel this calm but it felt nice. He felt at peace. Something brushed past his nose. He mumbled and scratched his cheek, turning his head over to the other side for a more comfortable position on his desk. Another sensation near his nose. A voice. Romano opened his eyes to find a vacant pair of emerald green orbs and full lips inches from his. Romano blinked. He jumped back in suprise, his face was a cherry tomato. Antonio giggled.

"Finally woke you up, you looked pretty relaxed like you were having a nice dream so I felt bad to wake you, but as you can see it's the end of the day, and it would be bad if you didn't come home because you were napping." Antonio chimed.

"W-what are you talking about, idiot? Me? Sleeping? You look just like the kind of creeper to watch his students in their sleep. And anyways, I did'nt need your help to wake me up, I could wake up myself just fine, thank you very much!" Romano spit back.

"Hmm... is that so?"

"Yes, it is!"

Romano was blushing so much he could swear his entire face looked like an airhead. He glared at Antonio menacingly before packing up his things and walking stiffly to the doorway. He turned the handle but realized it was locked. "Ah! forgot to tell you the door locks automatically at the end of the day, here let me unlock it for you." Antonio came up from behind Romano and placed his hand on top of his, the touch sent Romano's heart beat into a frantic hammer. Romano was almost sure Antonio could hear it. He thought it was retarded, the way he was acting so nervous. He yanked his hand away from the door knob and Antonio, who's face showed curiousity at his odd reaction to their touch.

Antonio quickly dismissed it and unlocked the door, then Romano sprinted out of the classroom. As Romano ran, he unconsiously tilted his head back to the door way, and sure enough he saw Antonio waving goodbye to him with his signiture grin. GRRR- Why am I feeling so strange and acting like a ritardare because the bastard's hand touched mine? That's it! E 'tutta colpa sua! ( it's all HIS fault )! I'll show that dick what he'll get for messin with Nonno Roma's ( Grandpa Rome's ) Eldest grandson, I'll never call you Maestro! Chigi!!!


	2. I'll Never Call This Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm cramming my English project to get this to you. I hope you like it, more sweat and blood of mine will be shed for all you pretties.  
> ~matanee

"Ignore it."  
This is what Romano had said out loud to himself. For days this had been going on. And again and again, he would just reiterate to his council; "Ignore it." It was almost his own personal mantra, he'd say it in the morning, when he's hanging in the bathroom during hall passing, when he lay in bed at night and listened to the silence.  
It was not an easy thing to turn his head from. The fact of the matter was, Romano had caught something. There were plenty of a variety of sicknesses in Castro Pretorio. Italy was not completely immune to the common cold. The district had an abundance of people from all over, there's bound to be some foreign floaters in the atmosphere. Nonetheless, Romano was quite surprised at the fact that he had come down with something at all. His system had always been reluctant when it came to viruses. The symptoms were an uncanny bunch.  
Sweaty palms. Not something a person gets on a day to day basis unless they are working out repeatedly. Romano played soccer here and then, not as much as he used to when his grandpa was still alive. Having moist hands was an understatement to the scourge of this perplexing illness's effects. Romano would feel listless in the evenings, when his brother would be calling him down for supper, and soon footsteps could be heard clopping up the stairs and lightly entering the way to his room, where Romano would be found staring mindlessly out the window, and sighing. He sighed all the time for no apparent reason. Like it hurt to breath in, that was also another of the symptoms. A warm, unsettling feeling in the hollows of his chest whenever he thought of-  
No. Hell no. That son of a bitch is the bane of his existence. It's no rocket science that Romano would only feel that way when he imagined all of the perfect scenarios of the bastard's suffering. How he wished he could be there for every moment Antonio fell on his face. Every. single. one.  
Concealing his excitement was hard to do when Feliciano's room was just next door. He stifled an evil laugh, but the devilish grin stayed put on his features. He had his tomato launcher skilfully camouflaged in the blue duffle bag beneath notebooks and folders of various studies, no one was going to suspect a thing.  
Today was going to be great.  
Romano quickly slung the bag over his shoulder, and took a gander at the mirror hung tightly by a nail on the doorframe. Jeans, socks and toms, and a red sweater. The sweater was an autumn shade of red, ripe for the season. On the front, the word Italia was stitched in orange thread to complete the look. It was casual, just as he needed to appear that day.  
Romano nodded at his doppelganger in silent approval, then glanced back at his bedroom. Green walls, white comforters and an assortment of furniture were selectively placed in the spaces available. There were no family photos, they were all located in the hallway. A desk and swivel chair were useful and remained stationary at the back alongside his bunker. Romano was one of the only people his age to still own a bunk bed because he and his sibling used to share rooms, and then his brother was given Nonno Roma's room and Romano could choose to keep the shared one as his own. So that's what he did. It was not as nice a room as Nonno's, and Romano could remember feeling a twang of jealousy when Nonno pronounced Feliciano would get the room and not him. But no use crying over spilled milk.  
Everything in place.The Italian was all set and exited his chamber. Shuffling down the Victorian stairwell, his feet met the edge of the carpet that belonged to the family room of the Vargas Villa.  
The smell of spices and sauce wafted throughout the building and made Romano's nose tingle and his mouth water expectantly. He skipped past the family room and sauntered on over to his right where the kitchen was overflowing with the savory aroma of home spaghetti.  
Yes. Hell yes. Hell fucking yes. Pasta for breakfast was the best thing imaginable. The only other thing that could possibly be better than pasta for breakfast was tomatoes. End of discussion.  
Romano entered the small archway, past series of cupboards, a refrigerator, oven, sink and all other kitchen appliances a home might have to where his younger brother held a forkful of goodness to his lips. He was in his underwear. Great.  
The lounger turned when he heard his brother enter the room, there seems to be some red sauce dripping from his lips as he said; "Good morning, Fratello!" greeting his kin with a wide and jovial grin.  
Feliciano's chest began to look like a gushing wound, but he paid no mind to wiping it off with a napkin, and the napkins were right there at the table one should mention.  
Stupidity was apparently not something Romano had been told runs in the family. He put one hand on his hip, and stabbed the other pointer finger menacingly in Feliciano's direction. His brother's grin unruffled by the the rude gesture. Romano spoke.  
"Feliciano, what the hell are you doing still undressed? Don't you know what day of the week it is?"  
The younger Italian's face contorted at this, he frowned slightly and replied; "Today... Isn't it Sunday?"  
Romano scoffed. He called him an idiota. "You are serious? Today is Monday you godamn ingrate. You spent too much time with potato-sucker this weekend and now you can't even tell what day it is! God, why did I have to get stuck with you?"  
Feliciano's honey due orbs widened and his frown ever more so. "Because Nonno Roma wanted us to be together."  
Then he jabbed his fork into the strands of spaghetti , stealing a few off his plate and shooting them in to the air. "Look, guess what I made?" He waved the silver utensil with the spaghetti around his head. Romano slapped his hand to his forehead and grumbled curses under his breath.  
And to think they were only one year apart.  
"Jesus Maria, hurry up and get dressed. And please make sure your clothes are decent!" He swiped a paper towel from off the table and roughly patted Feliciano's torso and face. Feliciano furrowed his brows and squinted an eye at the TLC treatment. Tossing the used kin into the trash bin, Romano strictly ordered that his brother hop to it, and pulling a plate down from the cupboard and scooping some of the extra spaghetti in the bowl and onto his plate. He snagged a few fresh tomatoes from the local grocery store off the counter for now and for later when he was hungry for something.  
Feliciano set his dirty dishes in the dish washer, while Romano continued to chide him. "And no shirts with GermIta on them, do you have any idea of the embarrassment I feel when you where that shit? Hey, are you listening?" The younger Vargas had begun to ascend the steps, but turned and saluted his brother. "Yes, sir!" Scrambling up the staircase and disappearing from view as he round the hallway.  
Romano was about to yell another reminder, but his brother had already vanished. Instead, he let out a distempered goan. Tapping his shoe anxiously and standing at the foot of the bottom steps, waiting for the sight of a less naked brother.

 

Antonio was already late. The flat with which he resided in was an obstacle course for grown ups, and he wished he did not have to regret being an unorganized teacher. Everywhere papers, papers and more papers. He looked at the destruction of his makeshift living room and let out a sigh; "Hay hay hay, you think it would have gotten easier after college."  
The Spaniard ran a nervous finger through tussles of chocolate curls. His job made it imperative that all workers come an hour or two earlier than when school time began so that the learning would be ready when students arrived. He had even taken the time to buy an alarm clock at the local pawn shop so he wouldn't have to use his phone , and had set it to exactly 5:30. But it didn't do a thing to stop Antonio from sleeping through its contemptuous wake up jingle, and now the artificial clock monitor read 6:45. So much time had passed, and still not enough for Antonio to completely be ready and out the door in one hour. After all, he still needed to take a shower, prepare some coffee and go over his schedule for the day.  
He noticed one of the stack of papers that were splayed out all over the carpet. He leaned down on his knees and began taking the papers into his hands and placing them back together in a neat but still unorganized pile on the coffee table surface. While picking them up, one of the sheets seemed to catch his eye.  
It was a writing assignment that had had been handed into him by one of the students in his 9th hour. The paper read:  
Estimado Sr. Fernández,  
me niego a hacer esta asignación porque creo que es un montón de mierda. ¿Cómo esperas que escribamos tres párrafos enteros de nuestras comidas favoritas en un período de clase? Usted es el Peor puto profesor español que he tenido. Vaya tomar un viaje de un acantilado.  
-Romano Vargas  
Antonio let out another sigh, and tossed the disrespectful essay back with the rest. This Romano was always giving him a hard time about everything. Antonio just did not get what the deal was. He was nice to everybody, teachers and students alike. Antonio had never done anything to wrong his pupil, but from the first day there was always this hostility that he could feel whenever their eyes would meet. He would try to shake it off and pretend he wasn't hurt by it, smiling back and sometimes even giving a little wave. That would always result in Romano pursing his lips and quickly breaking eye contact. Antonio was only the slightest bit curious to the fact that Romano' s cheeks would blaze tints of color after he turned away. It was more of an unusual reaction than most of his interactions with the other students. Plus there was the fact the he was hypersensitive to human touch. Antonio had realized this after Romano's almost instant recoil when their fingers brushed on the doorknob the first day.  
Antonio seemed to be puzzled at Romano's behavior, but Antonio feeling perfectly calm was not the truth either. In that one fourth of a second it felt like a zap of electrical pulse had surged from his fingertips to his shoulder. Antonio was certain it was Romano's hate manifesting into physical pain through his touch. Hot like a Jalapeño.  
He walked to the bathroom and pulled off his shirt, flinging the rest of his garments in the laundry bin and running the water till it got hot. Steam slowly began to fill the room and flow through the cracks of the door creaking as it was promptly shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all you Spanish speakers who are reading this, I really hope that was proper grammar because I used Google to translate say what I wanted it to say. If it is not correct please send me a comment and the fixed version so that I may have it be correct. Thankyou.


	3. I'll Never Call This Chapter 3

Fratello, Più Veloce! Faster, stupid Hetalia! Good for nothing Italian!" The older Vargas stomped his foot on the ground, gritting his teeth. He was in the middle of another incessant beckoning when Feliciano hopped down the wooden stairs, he was still pulling a sock on over his bare foot and his boot in the other hand. Damn him, if they were late again, Romano would have to start making time after school for all the minutes he had lost. Education was taken seriously in Italy, unlike Alfred's. That guy could learn to lose a few pounds. Feliciano bounced off the last few steps, and Romano scurried over to grab his arm and drag him out the door, the younger Italian was still fitting his heel into the cobalt blue of his other shoe.  
"Ah, it's on." Feliciano exclaimed when the shoe fit, but his brother had already began shoving him into the spot beside the driver's seat.  
With Feliciano riding shotgun, checking his bags and fixing his bed hair in the car mirror with his fingers, Romano yanked the handle to the car door and flung himself into the driver's seat beside his brother. He slammed the door and fiddled aggressively with his keys to jam the thing into the ignition. Bingo.  
He turned the key and the Renault Clio purred and vibrated as it was brought to life. Nonno had helped Romano and Feliciano afford a car, and it was nice, affordable, and not to mention hella sexy. Vermilion coat, and black leather seating, plus good grip for the steering wheel. What kinda car could look this good? Only a car picked by the Romano Vargas himself. That's what. He was the only one eligible to drive in comparison to his knock-off brother. But in all honesty, they were both terrible at driving. Nonno Roma would wake up in a cold sweat when he still was breathing, and the next morning he would tell his grandchildren that he had another nightmare where Feliciano, with himself and Romano in the back seat, drove them off a cliff. True story. And so, the moral of this tale is never let an Italian operate any kind of vehicle. Ever.  
Feliciano eyed Romano as he gripped the steering wheel and tapped the gas pedal while the car hobbled out of the drive way.  
"Fratello, you look tense. Maybe I-" Romano cut him off with a look of horror and disgust.  
"Don't EVEN volunteer to drive this car, bastard Hetalia. You will kill us all. I'm too young to die!" They got onto the road without any break slamming or run-over cats. Maybe, today was going to be tolerable?  
"But, I like it a hell lot more when you're in this car rather than in the starch-fucker's stupid BMW," Romano turned slightly, keeping his attention on the green light turning to yellow. Feliciano opened his mouth, as if to say something, but kept it closed and smiled at the back of his brother' s head. Romano would not look at him.  
"Dere dere." The youthful Vargas said under his breath with a glowing smirk.  
"I fucking hate that bastardo of a potata! Why doesn't he just leave us the hell alone? Che diavolo!" And back to his usual habits.  
Feliciano sighed. "Tsun tsun." He said.  
Driving a vehicle in Rome was less a luxury than public transit. People walked, the city of Rome was meant to be visited on foot since the time it was created. It was built for running, springing, jumping. The roads were, in most of the old families who had seen their beloved city grow to be more modern over many generations, their thoughts were that the roads and newly risen skyscrapers were an inconvenience more than anything else. They clashed with the Victorian architecture and majestic cathedrals. Still, the city was beautiful. It was Italy's one capital, home of the slanted Colosseum and Vatican City.  
Tourist traveled to witness its timeless beauty, all across the globe. The world wanted to see Rome. And The two brothers felt lucky to have been born here, in Italy.  
Perhaps that was a lie. One of the two was completely indifferent about Rome and its wonders. Hmm... whom could it be?  
"Veee~ Fratello, isn't our neighborhood just bella? Hey, bella isn't it? Let's paint it when we get home later, Okay?" Romano had just barely avoided another cat on the road, and growled Italian curses at the stray.  
"Too many damn cats," he mumbled. The car sped along trapped intersections and flew past blaring horns. "Come on! Go already, you bastard!" He rolled down his window and yelled insults at the car in front of them.  
"Hey, can't you hear? I said get on with it! Che palle! Are you deaf?" Romano had his head sticking out the the car window and was screeching, the people in the other car were beginning to turn their heads to look at the crazy person yelling at them from behind.  
Feliciano forced his arms around Romano's neck and shoulders, trying to pull him back into the driver's seat. Romano hissed. Road rage. Some people have the guts to do it, others; they abide the law.  
"Now now, Romano we shouldn't do that. Remember? Remember last time? Please, stop it," Feliciano tried pitifully to pry his brother's hands from the window.  
"No, these assholes need to know how slow their going-hey, ow! Chigi! Don't touch meee!" Just another Monday for the Vargas family.  
Eventually, after minutes of quarrelling wasted, Romano exited the shallow sea of metal and the tires met the familiar grounds of Giulio Cesare.  
Although walking was the more common way to come to school, there were still a good handful of cars parked on the sides. Romano drove right over an island full of green patches, and drifted between two trucks, accidentally scratching the front of the left vehicle. Romano could see a little mark along the brim of the metal. Well, he was going to not worry about it and hopefully not get sued even if his brother and him had nice health insurance. He did some parallel parking and steered backwards into a curb. The car jiggled, but no bones were broken so it was all okay. Feliciano looked to Romano.  
"Romano, why do you drive when the school is close enough that we can walk? Walking is good for your health, and you can get fresh air and stroll by the parks and breath in the flowers," Feliciano raised his eyebrows to question him with his features. Romano rolled his neck to the other side, facing the left of the Renault.  
"Che. It's faster. Now shut your mouth and get out of the car," Romano reached his body over to grab for the handle when both Feliciano and him were flung forward and then back against their seats. The car had jolted forth with an incredible amount of force, Romano felt a painful bruise swell from his forehead, and Feliciano instinctively curled up in a ball to protect himself from harm.  
The elder Italian brought his fist down on his head, willing his body to recover from the shock. His senses were coming back, and his mind buzzed and tried to find out what the hell just happened. This all took place in a matter of seconds, then Romano opened his eyes that were tightly shut and whirled around in staggering temperament.  
He couldn't believe that just happened. His Nonno's car had just been hit from behind. NONNO'S car. This guy... he was gonna get it. Romano had just made a new enemy, and lucky for him, Romano brought extra Tomatoes this time. It was like fate that Romano was gonna beat the living piss out of him. His ass AND his car were doomed.  
"What the fuck?!" Romano burst open the car Renault, leaving Feliciano still disoriented in the passenger seat. He stormed towards the car that made its attack earlier. Another mother fucking BMW. Who would've guessed? Well, who cares. Whoever this person was, the have declared war. The battle has only just begun.  
As it was, the villain had also began to step out of his territory. Ah! And the BMW was red. Oh, come on! This guy was getting no pity from Romano whatsoever. Justice would be served on a silver platter alongside cherry tomatoes and a bowel of pasta. He heard the enemy speak. Something so simple as "aww man" filled the Italian with overflowing rage. Wait, Romano had heard a cocky, obnoxious voice like this before. And, as the foe revealed itself, Romano blurted out,  
"shit."  
"Maaan, can't believe awesome me got himself stuck in an accident at school. Really ruins my day that I planned would be the Best's. Should I add this to my diary entry for today? I really don't wanna screw up the image I've made in all the journal entrees of my cute self. Crap."  
Why was this albino talking to himself? More importantly, he was ignoring the guy in front of him.  
"Hey, you! Bastard, did you think you could get away with wronging my car? I'm gonna wreck this piece of junk, and then shoot you down with my tomato launcher! Ahaha! What do you think about that?" Romano's taunts had no effect on the red-eyed fellow. Romano had to actually get up in his face just to get him to look. When he did, Romano noticed the guy's eyes and his car were the exact same vibrant red. How unoriginal.  
Now that Romano had his attention, it was time to make him bow down to his maker. He opened his mouth, cleared his throat and-  
"Hey, its you. The snappy-mouthed kid from my 9th hour! It was your car I bumped, huh? Wow, small world am I right?"  
Unbelievable. Did he seriously just interrupt Romano like he was some measly slice of chopped liver?  
"Shut uuup! It doesn't mean a thing that I'm in your class, what I want from you right now is to pay for damaging Nonno's car!" He could feel his hands sweat and the skin prick from his nails digging into his palms. The spot where Romano had banged the wheel with his forehead still ached. He was seething with rage. Nonno's car, the car he bought for him. Wrecked! He hadn't even checked the butt for dents, its sentimental value was just fueling him to deliver the Falcon Punch to the guy, and his car. What was his name, anyways? Didn't it start with a G? Gilbing?  
Gil-whoever he was made a bewildered face and put his hands defensively in front of him, palm up. He waved them frantically in front of his chest, signifying that he was trying to say with his body; "Don't shoot, don't shoot," which meant he didn't want to start anything that might get ugly. But it was about to. Romano was gonna make sure of it.  
Feliciano would not. Romano heard his name called and turned to see his brother come dashing towards him with a desperate look upon him.  
"Fratello!" Feliciano called. He dived for the two and forced himself into the middle of the fray. "Don't hurt him," his brother pleaded.  
"Wha- what the...? Why the hell shouldn't I?"  
"Because that's Ludwig's older brother."  
Romano froze. Feliciano was breathing hard, and the three stared at each other by the school courtyard. Romano looked from his brother to the other, and back again. Then he started thinking. The BMW. The burly shoulders, the attitude that made him want to vomit. And while Gil-something was creepily having conversations with himself, he seemed to have a different Italian accent, as well as when he spoke aloud. It was true.  
Romano took a step forward, locking eyes with the albino who looked more confused than ever. Ludwig's brother was preparing to be charged by the little ball of fire, but blinked twice in surprise at the sight of Romano jumping backward and hiding behind his younger sibling.  
"Eeek! I- I mean get him the hell away from me!" He squealed and quivered behind his smaller brother's back and shoulders, he held his brothers arm tightly like a lost child who had just been reunited with his mommy.  
The albino laughed. He held his stomach in his arms, bent over and just chortled. Romano under the protection of Feliciano flushed with embarrassment and fury. But he was still too scared to go over there and say his mind. Not after he found out the potato bastard and Chuckler were related!  
Feliciano put his hand on his Fratello's head and gave it an affectionate pap. He endeavored to calm his older sibling down with some "shooshes", and more head paps.  
"It really is okay, Romano. Gilbert is a cool guy, Ludwig told me he even owns the cutest little birdy. And guess what, its name... is Gilbird! Isn't that great?"  
The atmosphere that surrounded Feliciano was like one day of spring frozen and captured with tiny spinning petals, and overall just a good-feeling aura. Bleck. It unfathomably reminded Romano of his Spanish teacher again. Why does everything soft and fuzzy remind him of that insufferable human being?  
So... Uh, is Romano just gonna keep cowering behind another weakling, or actually get up and do something about it? He can't hang around the courtyard forever, and as much as he despised school with every fiber of his being, he needed to be there. He could skip toward the end of the year when all the heavy-duty test were over and everything went slack. Or whenever he had 9th period. He hated that class even more than just school in general so that was fine too.  
Ludwig's brother, who was apparently named Gilbert was taking a step forward toward Feliciano and him with a cheeky grin, they were about to engage in conversation and Romano wanted nothing to do with that. Nada.  
But aha! A plan was devised. Romano would distract the two with some imaginary creature which they were sure to think existed, and then, when neither were looking his way, he would leap from the scene! They were both idiots anyways, how could the plan not fail?  
"Wow, Feliciano... Vargas am I right?" The conversing has begun.  
"Ya, it makes me so happy that Ludwig's brother remembered my name. How is sweet little Gilbird doing? I only got to meet him once. Is he always just at your place, Gilbert? Bring him over next time and the four of us can play together."  
Feliciano... Is he not even the slightest bit aware of the muscle beast in his presence? Or what he even just said, for the matter? Talk about innuendos.  
Anyways, they're talking. And Romano is a man on a mission. This time he opens his mouth again, and he's got both of their attention already. Aaww yea. Ow. He winces because the forehead bruise still fucking hurts.  
"Hey, is that one of those things Arthur's always lying about seeing? Or wait, I think its a naked Francis! Waaay over there behind you," he made his eyes go wide and the best faked expression of complete and utter surprise a non-thespian like him could make, he even changed his tone a little and wiggled his eyebrows for extra measure. At the same moment, Feliciano and Gilbert both blurted out "Where?" And their eyes incessantly followed Romano's pointer finger that sent a beacon of an invisible arrow flying past their noses. The Hetalia and albino both turned their heads to look at the totally wondrous sight of a fairy or the bodacious bod of a French boy, and Romano couldn't believe this was even capable of happening, but they turned so perfectly in unison that the sides of their heads collided and they both winced loudly and ducked to tend to their wounds.  
Romano spun on his heel and sprinted back to the Renault Clio, the door was hanging ajar from when Feliciano had mindlessly left it when he decided he would become a diplomat for the the two metaphorical countries and try to auspitize them without success. His school things, along with his brother's were still lifelessly scattered upon the seats and also underneath them. He left his brother's stuff alone and collected his bag plus a few notebooks that fell out and splilled onto the matt and he stuck those under his arm and continued to run.  
The Vargas's were rubbish at anything that dealt with moving their legs at high speeds, running included all those things. His chest and ribcage throbbed every half second, and he was gasping for air out of his tightening throat by the time he split the field and passed the honorary statue of his imperial Julius Caesar by the front school building. But fear had made him run fast. Not ambition, or anything that had cheered him on.  
Feliciano could have the ambition.  
The fear of losing was a higher price to pay.  
Before the entrance to the school was another great staircase. Romano felt the time pulling at his sleeves and it tried to drag him down by his knees and ankles, it took forever and two and a half minutes to climb the steps and reach the front doors. He pushed the giant glass guardians out of his way and disappeared through the arch. The familiar surroundings and sensations ran through his ears, wafted between his nostrils and brushed his shoulders and arms. People. Whole bunches of em'. Social gatherings like this were one of the reasons why Romano should have come super late and miss the before-school drama. It was like a free ticket to see yourself trying to get somewhere without any friends. That's right. Romano was friendless. There was no boy or girl worth talking to in the entire school building. Everyone sucked and Romano didn't fit in because he was too outspoken about his own personal opinions and beliefs to the point that it was almost overwhelming how often he spoke his mind. People wanted a calmer, innocent, more nonviolent person to be around. And as such, he used Feliciano as the example for the kind of friends people would like to make.  
Middle school was paradise for blossoming friendships. No awkward first meetings or greetings or buddy-ups. Romano would use Feliciano to advertise his friendship. Basically, he paid people to be his friend. And it worked. But by highschool a tiny part of him thought he would make at least one true friend, it didn't turn out like he expected.  
First period went by, then second then third. Mostly just hobbling around like a zombie during passing period. He still felt the irritation burn his skin at remembering the whole Gilbert's event. Before class had started Romano had rushed to a janitor's closet somewhere to check that his secret weapon was still in perfetto stato. His plans for today must be gone through with, rain or shine. Antonio was taking a tomato to the face. Also the albino potato. On the list.  
When lunch was drawing near and the midpoint for the school day was nigh, Romano started snacking on one of the tomatas in his sack lunch during Physics. He had only finished half of it when he heard a voice speak.  
"Romano," another one of his classmates leaned over his desk that was abreast to Romano's, and cupped his mouth, whispering quite loudly. "Gimme some of your tomatoes," Romano glared as he was disturbed in taking the next bite. His face scrunched up when he saw that it was the French exchange student.  
"No, go find some of your own," Romano spat. Francis whined and bugged him again.  
"Come on, gimme some of your tomatoes," he made a face so desperate it looked like he had spent all his free time practicing the expression in a mirror; fatuous egotist.  
"No I'm freaking starving, all I had was pasta today. Go away, your rape face is scaring me," Romano was terrified of Germans and the French. Francis disobeyed him and shoved a hand into the bag, Romano immediately ripped his hand away.  
"Chigi! I touched you. You touched me! Oh, lordo," he leaned all the way back in his chair and stared at his hands and then the creeper who had his bag. Francis grinned and pulled out a cherry tomato, then put in between his two lips and chewed. Romano could still do nothing more than stare in hate and fright of the fellow who stole his lunch. Francis concentrated on the tangy flavor, and Romano watched the small lump of his daily needs go down the other's throat. He made an unsatisfied facial expression and chucked the only one bite in teeny red baby on the floor, it splattered rubicund on the stone.  
"Hmph, I can get better ones in Paris. Au Revoir, little one," he waved to what was left of the fruit that Romano was bound to have to clean up after class because his Physics teacher saw the whole thing. Fuck life.  
Lunch was here, finally! Finally finally finally. But Romanos food... he hadn't thought to bring any extra change in case an emergency like this happened. Now Romano would literally only be doing nothing while he sat outside. Without friends, he would focus all his energy into his pal the plate. But what plate. What food. What friends. He was not going to to sit in the cafeteria like everybody else and talk about grade point averages or the school play. The cafeteria was for chumps. So then, what is he gonna do with all this fresh time he's got on his hands? Was there anything else Romano had planned today, but that he may have forgot? Oh.  
Oh. Yea, that. He had been deliberately keeping it in the back of his mind for some time. Now could not be wasted any other way; it was the perfect time. The time to see a nurse.


	4. I'll Never Call This Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third chapter was it way to long so I'm cutting thgm ups bit.

Romano decided going to the infirmary was what he was going to do to kill the time. He turned his body the opposite way from the courtyard and roamed back hallways till he felt he was getting closer to where the nurse's office was located. Perhaps he could get this bump checked out too. He hadn't seen it yet, but he guessed it was big considering the looks he got from his classmates when they made eye contact. It definitely felt like a bruise. It hurt like a bruise.  
Man, this school was big. Romano had never once been to the nurse's office this year or the last. First time for everything. The people were more scarce here. Everyone was probably in class or out for lunch. Ugh, lunch. Boy, He was hungry. But what could he do? Beg Feliciano for his leftovers?  
Maybe Romano WOULD do that. Oh but wait, is that the office? Romano spotted ahead of him a group of small doors. When he squinted he could vaguely read "Infirmary". Well, that sounded good enough for him, would do. Infirmary and Nurse's Office same thing. His feet trotted along the tile until they met the doorway. He stood just outside, strangely enough for him, he was hesitant. Oh, just get in there already! He twisted the knob and and entered looking like a hangry person. Angry and hungry.  
The Infirmary was much bigger than the tiny door that concealed it. It was more lengthy than a classroom and separated off into sections. Near the front, an area that looked like more of a waiting room conjoined with the five or so cots, hidden behind transparent aqua curtains. Sinks stuck to the wall atop counters. There were three even tinier rooms inside this one. A boy's bathroom and also a girl's. Then a storage closet near the left corner of the back room where the staff presumably kept medicines and ice packs. It smelled like air fresheners and disinfectants. Very clean.  
Well he couldn't just keep standing there and gawking at the place, walk over to the desk and meet the head honcho. The mafia boss in this pimp palace was much younger than he expected. She looked exactly the same age as Romano, why the hell was she working as a nurse in a highschool? The girl was relaxing with her back leaned against the swivel chair and her legs comfortably crossed. She held a book with a rust colored hardback that Romano was sure he was being forced to read in his English class up to her nose. She seems to be reading it very intently. Romano took another step and the girl looked up surprisingly from her book. She smiled and eyed Romano curiously, then her eyes rose to his forehead and she made a sympathetic expression which Romano could clearly see. It bugged him to be pitied.  
"Yea, I know. It looks bad doesn't it, but that's not why I'm here," he trailed off and looked to the desk where doctor prescriptions and a list of phone numbers were lying in an organized pile. The nurse's name tag resided at the front of the desk by the sign in sheet. It read: Adalina Pagano.  
"Well whatever it is you're here for, please sign in first," she motioned him to the paper and pen beside his hip. Romano picked up the pen and hastily scribbled his name in sloppy writing, she took the paper from Romano as he watched.  
"Okay, Romano Vargas. If you're not here for that swelling purple thing on your forehead, what is it you would be needing?" She was too young to own such a motherly tounge. Romano bit his lip, scraping dead flesh off the skin with his bottom teeth and thinking of something to say.  
"I um... Signorina Pagado-" The girl raised an eyebrow and opened her sage eyes at the Italian with a wide look when he had spoken the name on top of the counter.  
She shook her head and said,"No no, I'm not Infermiera Pagado. I'm just her helper. She's out browsing the market for new remedies while she's on lunch break. Sorry if you were hoping for the nurse, but anything you need I will have to help you for right now, Romano. Come over to the cupboards so I can examine your mighty bruise," before the older Vargas could reply, she nudged him with her hands to the sinks and made him sit in a chair. "By the way, I'm Elizabeta Héderváry , and I already knew your name was Romano. How could you not recognize me when we sit only a few seats away from each other in Lezione Di Spagnolo?" She winked at him, and he thought that was really weird.  
"I usually try to block that class out of my memory," Romano mumbled. Seriously, is it always a coincidence that he keeps getting reminded of that class? Does Romano have a sign taped to his back that says "Talk to me about the thing that pisses me of most, why don't ya'?"  
Elizabeta stood on her tip toes to pry one of the higher cupboards open with her fingers, and it sounded like she was digging through a glass jar. She stuck her tongue out of her mouth and retrieved some cotton swabs and other kinds of supplies and ointments along with First Aid. Romano almost snickered a little at the effort she had to put into getting those things. Short people problems.  
"Here we go. Romano, turn toward me so I can get a better look at your face," Romano frowned, but let her tilt his chin and she prodded at his wound. It hurt when she touched it. The bruise was not what he personally came for, he needed to remind himself. But he couldn't say it. It was just too weird to even ask about what he wanted to know. But she seemed nice. Not friend-worthy , but nice. Also pretty. Oh, fuck it. Throw it out there.  
"Like I said," Romano spoke up, and Elizabeta didn't look down but was turning her ear towards him to hear what he had to say.

"This isn't what I'm here for."

"Hmm, then what is it?"

"I think I've caught a terrible sickness."

He stared at a group of pictures stapled to the plaster wall above the check out desk, depicting a sweet middle aged woman who was a little plump, but in a granny way. That was the original nurse. Signora Pagado had a dozen photos of her and a little spotted terrier. Her and the dog at the park, in a car, on the beach. Bleck.  
Elizabeta tapped his shoulder and got him to refocus again on what he started.  
"Illnesses are not really my best skill, but I will try to help identify what you think you might have caught. What symptoms do you have that can give us any clues?" She perked an eyebrow at him. Romano scratched his tongue against his teeth, and bit the tip taste buds.  
"Like my bodies doing some really strange stuff. I don't know how to describe..." he trailed off again.  
"Its alright, just try the best you can, but be detailed please," Elizabeta encouraged him. She scrutinized the wound. Romano continued.  
"Sometimes I start to get this throbbing pain in my chest. It'll just happen out of nowhere. I'm scared my heart is failing or something. Am I gonna die? Dammit, and another thing. I feel really sick too. Throw up kinda sick. My breath becomes shallow, and it gets hard to breath. I'm sensitive to people touching me. I sigh like every five minutes. Never in my life have I ever come down with something of a small fraction close to this. One of the worst parts about this disease is I seem to very usually be getting a hot face. Like, what the hell? The blood all seems to be going to my head. It's fucking embarrassing. And the sensation that happens here," Romano lifted his hand and stuck his thumb into the left half of his above torso. Where his heart rested.

"Its Lukewarm."

"And it makes me want to cry."

Romano finished. Elizabeth had stopped tending to his forehead and stared at him. Her eyes were the widest he had ever seen them. It was making him anxious. Was this unknown virus that serious? Oh, god. Maybe it WAS heart cancer. Better kiss this girl while he had the chance. Damn, he was famished.  
His thoughts were interrupted as the silence was broken. "Romano, I think I may have an idea on what you are suffering from," the Italian perked up.  
"What in La Vergine Maria do you think it is?" His voice was straight forward and questioning.  
"You say all these symptoms happen at random, but I'm sure some of them happen all at the same time, right?" Elizabeta said.  
"Now that I think about it, they do," Romano sighed with contempt and slumped further into his chair. Where was she going with this?  
"Any certain time of the day these symptoms affect you most?" She asked after a moment. Romano paused to think. But he already knew the answer. It just didn't make any fucking sense.  
"During my last hour. It's always then," Romano was still uber confused. It was true though. Che palle! Did someone give him a bug? The albino! Yes, that Gilbert did the thing. Romano has been infected.  
Elizabeta turned her head full of light brown strands and her sage eyes looked right through Romano's own olive green. Her earnest expression on her face was disconcerting. "And in your ninth hour, when these symptons occur, do they happen frequently around a specific person?" Romano's mouth went agape.   
He hadn't heard a word of what she just said.

That fucking bastard just walked into the infirmary.


	5. I'll Never Call This Chapter 5

Romano gawked as his expression was one of horror and embarrassment. Wait, why was he embarrassed? Great timing douchbag. He is absolutely despicable.  
Antonio carried a large bag slung over his shoulder and beared that signature moronic grin. Something amazing was emanating from his bag that Romano could smell.  
" Hola, Señorita Elizabeta. Where is Señora Pagado? I don't think we'll be able to eat this all by ourselves," then Antonio noticed the person standing beside the Hungarian, giving him the evil eye. Antonio bit his lip, and scratched the base of his hair line and neck. Romano did not look too pleased to see him. Elizabeta either ignored the strange energy between the two, or just didn't notice it because she went right away with greeting Antonio and chatting.  
"Hello Signor Fernández, so nice of you to stop by. Unfortunatley, your journey may have been in vain. Signorina Pagado is out for her break. Should I take the dish and leave it here for when she gets back?"  
"Uh, no I mean..." he started to stare off sideways, then suddenly Antonio locked eyes with Romano. It was like Romano's face had helped him generate an idea. His eyes returned to Elizabeta. "But you know, I think these would taste the best if they were eaten fresh, considering I just made them now. I was hoping to share with you my greatest snack. The three of us could, if that's okay with you?" His eyes looked into hers, searching for signs of acceptance.  
Elizabeta embraced the idea with a bubbly, "Sure! We'd love to, wouldn't we Romano?" Elizabeta turned to Romano and smiled, he had to force a smile back. Painfully.  
Food. Food sounded so good right now. His face was fixed on the item in Antonio's hands.The sweet aroma of Spanish dish made the inside of his mouth water. Why not just let himself enjoy this blessing in disguise?  
The answer was simply obvious.  
Antonio made it.  
No way in hell would Romano ever, EVER eat a smidge of that bastard's food. It didn't matter if he licked his fingers after mixing the bowl, or if he was a pro. Anything, anything he prepared was the devil's incarnate. How could he be so sure? Don't ask, just keep watching.  
Antonio came forward with his lovely homemade abomination in tow. Surprisingly enough, he did not go to Elizabeta. He went straight to Romano.  
"Romano, I never knew your real name was Lovino," he made a very unpleasant smile that was sickening, and yet, Romano felt his stomach do a flip. Wait a minute, isn't this one of those symptoms?  
"Che, does it matter? You would just go wearing it out anyways. I don't care for it," Romano squinted into Antonio's face staring up at him with icy olive spheres and hostility beneath the glass.  
Antonio tilted his head, and a "Queee?" Escaped his lips. "Lovino is fun to say and pleasant to the ear. Romano makes me think of the cheese. Have you ever thought of just shortening it to "Lovi? Lovi sounds like the English word for-"  
Romano swifty cut in; "Lovi is a girl's name, are you an idiot? Do I look like a female to you?" The elder Vargas scoffed. He placed his hands firmly on his hips and squared his shoulders, but it looked more from Antonio's position that he was pouting. It was quite adorable.  
"Lovi, you treat me so coldly," Antonio went "Brrr" and rubbed his arms, pretending to shiver.  
"I am not Lovi, chigii!"  
You could practically see the imaginary puffs of steam above Romano's head, Antonio smiled amusedly with the familiar flora-aura circling his incessant grin and closed lids. His euphoria was impenetrable. And the way Romano was getting so flustered over nothing was just quaint.  
At last, Elizabeta could not hold it in. She had been watching the quarrel the whole time with a hand to cover her mouth. Her giggling was cute and breathy, and Antonio and Romano were at a stalemate as Elizabeth's bubbling noises knocked them back to their senses. Romano felt a blush creep up the back of his neck and embarrassment redden his ears. Antonio widened his emeralds in befuddlement. She continued to laugh at the skit even though she was being gawked at.  
"Roma, then," Romano was surprised at the sudden tanned hand ruffling his hair. "Can I call you Roma?" Romano felt like someone had pointed a universal remote at him with their finger pressed on the pause button. He wanted to smack that hand away and glare at the enemy who spoke in such a soft, affable tone. Muster up the cruelest Italian insults he had in the dictionary of his brain, and head butt the bastard all the way till next Diada Nacional de Catalunya.  
Yet, something was stopping him from doing all these things, and telling the guy to get lost. This sensation, the feeling of fingers running through his thin brown hair. God, why this strange, familiar pang in his heart? Please, please don't make him feel grief again. It hurts too much to remember.  
Nonno's smile was so bright and garish, it soothed his soul. How much of the need to belong to someone who cared deeply for him had Romano stuffed away into the corners of his heart? Boxed up, along with other sentiments that were to extreme too bear. Romano couldn't give them away; he always had to keep them to himself until one day, someone would take half of the burden that caged his passionate nature. Till that time...   
He didn't do any of these things. Out came a reply that he never expected would leave his lips.  
"It doesn't matter to me. Do whatever you want," the Italian spoke lightly, he twisted his neck so that his head was facing away from the teacher, Antonio's touch remained in the strands of his hair. What the fuck did I even say? Oh lordo, why is he still just looking at me? D-don't look at my face. Don't look! Under Antonio's incessant gaze, he did not dare look him in the face. The heat was unbearable. His palms became sweaty, the Vargas swallowed but there was no saliva to ingest, his throat was completely dry. He knew that if he endeavored even the slightest gander, both Elizabeta and the bastardo would see the rosiness of colour and the blood pumping to his cheeks.  
Men did not become a pink tinge. Elizabeta was the only girl in the room. She had smiled that sweet smile and touched his face, it would seem like this kind of reaction would have happened then, not now. When she's standing on his opposite side and his Spanish teacher is right in front of him. He hasn't looked at her face in forever. Ugh, why couldn't Romano understand?  
Abruptly, all three people jumped in their skin at the bellowing gurgle sounding from a red-faced Italian school boy's stomach. That was comic relief, folks.  
Romano's mouth went agape. The most embarrasing, awkward and just straight up terrible day of his life and he still hadn't shot a single tomato. Someone was to blame. Definitely not god, and not his own bodily functions either. Then it had to be-  
"Mrmph!" Romano had his mouth shoved full with the most scrumptious thing ever to be conceived by man kind that wasn't a tomato. Antonio just stuck his own Franken-food between Romano's lips all sly and coy like. What is this abomination melting on his tongue? The fuck is this sugary-texture and creamy mix sliding along his taste buds?  
"Romaa~ how do you like churros? You must have been muy hombre," his innocent smile and appeasing eyes were unfathomably engaging. They got Romano all twisted up inside. What for?  
"Phow dare ru!", Romano barked with his mouth full and glared daggers at the bastard, but his aura was untouchable, so it had no effect. Only one Poke ball left.  
"Roma, you're not swallowing?" Antonio asked.  
Fuck yeah he wasn't. He was going to immediately walk to the trash bin and spit the thing out into the garbage where it belongs. Oh boy, the heartbroken look on Antonio's face when he does, God. Romano could not wait to see it. It was gonna be priceless. The bastard's suffering was Romano's happiness.  
The thought made him so pleased that he began to laugh. They say laughter is the best medicine, but in this case, not at all. How could he be so stupid as to forget the shit was almost down his throat? Just as one might've guessed, Romano swallowed. And completely accidentally.  
Romano could feel the warm morsel slide down the shoot to the pits of his digestive system, and now he would not be getting it back.  
Antonio grinned and clapped his hands, nudging Romano incessantly with the same question of how he thought it tasted. Was it good? Did he think it needed more sugar? Should he try strawberry next time? The questions kept rolling in, and Romano was tired of hearing his voice.  
Romano cracked, "Just shut uuup! You're churros will never be any good, you son of bitch!" Elizabeta gasped. Romano was breathing hard, and his face and body flushed with anger. Antonio became silent. It felt good to let it out. But... Romano couldn't just ignore the small pang pulling on his sleeve that whispered into his ear that he might've gone too far this time. As the distilling silence went on, Romano couldn't help but feel guilty and more guilty at each seconds passing.  
N-not that he was going to apologize! Don't get too hasty. Maybe just the slightest gander to acknowledge his pain. Yes, Romano thought. Look him in the eyes and tell him your true feelings. I hate y-  
The teacher's eyes were unmet. They were not face forward where they should be, neither were they looking down at the ground and sulking in gloom. Antonio's emerald mirrors were fixed on something over Romano's head. It took a moment for the Italian to realize Antonio was staring at his curl. His eyes were wide and mesmerized at the odd hair piece that stuck out of the top of his head. He would have gotten rid of it a long time ago if it wasn't for... reasons.  
Very quickly Romano felt his face start to heat up. His uneasiness was similar to the feeling a girl gets when they catch a guy eyeballing her chest. Uh oh. He recognized this scenario, it was far too familiar for him not to see.  
Too late. Antonio's hand shot forward and grabbed hold of the curl.  
"Ahh!" Romano yelped in surprise while Antonio lightly tugged. "L-let go of my curl, you bastard," Romano grit his teeth, but he wasn't able to do anything more as the sensual stir was already causing him to become out of breath.  
"Hmm... interesante. Roma, Qué es este en tu cabello ?" Antonio plucked at the thing with his pointer finger and thumb like grass. The stroking action was highly arousing. One thing that Romano and Feliciano had to equally share was the terrible curse of being born with a curled hair that made its owner sexually evoked when touched. The stupid curl gave him all sorts of trouble.  
Blood was flowing to his lower regions, Romano wasn't prepared for this kind of stimulation. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a staggering sigh, oh god. He hadn't felt this kind of physical pleasure in months. It had to stop.  
"Get..." He spoke inaudibly.  
Antonio cocked his head.  
"Your dirty hands off me!" He roared loudly and head butted Antonio in the gut. The bull has knocked the bull fighter off his feet.  
"Oh my," Elizabeta cupped a hand to her mouth and her brows rose to the top of her forehead. What lay in front of her were two oblivious boys stacked on top of each other on the floor of the infirmary. If she had said to any bystander in the area that it wasn't a pretty sight, she'd be lying and her dress would become a pile of ash on the ground beside her feet.  
Romano winced, but luckily something warm and soft had cushioned the fall.  
And then his heart started racing. His own body was pressed against Antonio's neck and chest. The older Vargas could not deny that he was in a compromising position.  
Antonio winced and he turned slightly over beneath Romano. His arms had somehow wrapped themselves around the small student's back. Romano's hairlines stood on end and the skin on his back burned from the light pressure.  
But his heart, his heart! One beat, then a skip. Two beats, then another skip. Antonio could definitely feel it, with their chest being so close. Could he hear the flutter of wings echoing inside Romano's stomach?  
The fast thud in his core was a constant reminder of the symptoms that were beginning to develop whenever he and Antonio spoke. Whenever his eyes discovered the outline of the Spaniard's figure in the hallway, whenever the thought of him crossed his mind. And it often did.  
What was wrong with him?  
Antonio hastily jumped to his feet and startled Romano, his warmth was drained from the Vargas and left a bitter chill in its silence. Romano looked up and saw his teacher rubbing his lids with his fingertips gently, which to those who have studied the ways of body language it was easily recognized as eye blocking, of course Romano didn't know this but still.  
"That was very inappropriate, I need to be going now. Sorry I can't stay Elizabeta, I forgot I- I have a meeting. Goodbye!" He flashed a tight-lipped smile that looked unnaturallly forced, and waved before quickly exiting the room. His bag was forgotten on the front desk in a hurry.  
"Well, Tony what do you expect me to do with the churros if they're already opened?" Elizabeta called into the hall, but came back by herself and let out a long sigh. The Hungarian girl mumbled under her breath that this was very suspicious, then hobbled over to her patient. Romano had just sat there on the floor, staring past the door. His eyes were broad and dilated.  
Elizabeta kneeled downward and reached her arm out to take his, "Romano, need a hand?"  
He didn't speak, but gave her a small head nod in response and took hold of her hand. She pulled him off the floor and he stood on his feet. Elizabeta put a hand to her hip and frowned.  
"Look at you, your face is so red, come on, dust yourself off," she patted his clothes and face, and made a look that said; "What am I going to do with you?"  
He quickly put a hand to his face, covering his eyes. Elizabeta asked what was wrong, Romano hastily responded with an; "I'm leaving," letting her sage beryls follow him curiously out the door, he left without saying so much as a goodbye.  
He hoped she didn't see it.  
Liquid sliding down his cheeks and hanging off his pink lips. He licked the rough skin and his tongue came into contact with the wandering droplet.  
Saline.


	6. I'll Never Call This Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first real update in like forever.

Antonio Fernando Carriedo was having a difficult time walking into his own classroom, how strange is that? This was his classroom for crying out loud, his! Well, the school Giulio Cesare owned the room, but he liked to think he was the boss whenever  he was at work. Ironically, today he was not the boss. He didn't feel himself; the confident, laid-back and understanding Spaniard that he was on the inside. All that seemed to have been shoved aside and everything about him just felt anxious and dirty.     
With his leather satchel slung over his shoulder stuffed with graded papers and various supplies, Antonio stood entirely still outside his classroom door. His emerald eyes were stuck on the wood, glued to it. He pinched the fabric of his khaki capris with a rock of uncertainty sinking in the pit of his stomach.   
I've gotta go in there or I'm not gonna get paid! Maybe it won't be so awkward if I pretend it didn't happen. Hay Maria. Antonio bit the tip of his tongue, a nervous habit he picked up from his childhood. This was not a very happy Wednesday afternoon for the Spanish teacher. Anxiously, he glanced up at the clock nailed to the hall ceiling, it was a large, industrious clock that had a steam-punk appearance, there was one for each floor of the building, and the floor Antonio happened to work on was the third. He gulped as his irises trailed along the hands of the clock, a minute before the hour will commence. A minute before he must enter the room and face his fears.

A petulent Italian with a bitter tongue, olives for eyes and cherry cheeks. When Romano's body had fallen on top of his, it was tempting. He was tempting. The Spaniard had a gander at the diamond-studded titanium band wrapped around his finger, spinning the thing on his appendage; another nervous habit. 

He breathed in through his nose, let the air swarm out of his lungs and then twisted the knob. He stared straight forward and his walk was stiff and robotic. He looked like a moving plank, tight-lipped and diffident. His pupils were all seated and yammering highschool phenomenons that Antonio could only look back on fondly from his teenage years. Romano Vargas was presumably lost in the mix.

He passed the rows of desks, holding his breath each time a student was caught in his peripheral vision. His pulse flickered like a flame when Romano's seat manifested before him, but the chair was vacant. Antonio let a sigh of relief escape from his lips as he realized the boy was absent. This was the first time he was actually happy that Romano was skipping. 

No longer needing to be nervous, Antonio perked up as his usual cheeriness returned the color in his cheeks. His naturally bright smile spread across his face and he swung his arms while he headed toward the front of the classroom. Clearing his throat, he spoke.

"Buenos tardes chikos y chikas! It's good to see you all so lively and ready to learn. I hope you are ready to learn some more español today?" He grinned and placed a hand on his hipside, feet apart. Romano wasn't here, so he could push him aside and let that be for another day. Right now, in the present moment he was confident again. The flowery aura reappeared around his head and face; Antonio was the boss.

Today's lesson would be practicing conversing with elderly people, and Antonio directed his students by pretending to be a gentleman much older than he actually was, and the students would have to be as polite as possible. It was quite an entertaining exercise for his pupils, especially the Hungarian girl, who was his star student. She already spoke so formally in her second language, Italian. It was no different with Spanish.

"¿Cuáles son sus parientes haciendo ahora?" Elizabeta asked Antonio what his relatives were currently doing. He opened his mouth to reply, "Mi parientes-"

" tu mamá."  The German exchange student cut in with a snide remark and Elizabeta scoffed. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave the cheeky albino a black look. He grinned at her smugly. Antonio looked between the two with a raised brow, but said nothing more. 

The hour passed sooner than he had wanted it too, but when the giggles had died down and the herd rushed out of classroom to head for home, Antonio felt a sort of calm come over him that he hadn't felt in a while. Today was a good day. He thought to himself with a tiny grin. Now it was time for him to go home to his cramped apartment and try to shovel some things out of the walkway, maybe even get to those dishes that had been sitting in the sink for a week. 

One by one he packed his things in his carrier. Pencils, erasers, a flood of worksheets from his students, and last but not least, his cellphone. He touched it and all at once it seemed to come to life. Antonio jumped out of his skin at the buzzing sensation, it wasn't that he was not used to getting calls, but that the phone rang just as he went to pick it up and slip it in his back pocket. He regained his composure and brought the device close to his ear, "Hello?"

"Tony! Hola, it's Anri! I missed you so much. Are you at work right now?" Antonio's bulbs lit up with surprise and delight as he instantly recognized the voice, he answered swiftly bringing the phone closer to him.

"N-no I was just getting done. How are you, Anri?" 

"I'm wonderful! It's been so long since I've heard from you, my gezin are just dying to hear how you've been at your new job in Rome. My brother is particularly interested in the crime rate there, I think he's worried about you." Antonio winced and figured her older brother was only interested in finding his body dead in the streets if the rates were high. 

"O-oh really? Isn't that nice of him." Antonio fibs. "So, have you been enjoying yourself in your hometown? Seeing the old haunts and eating nastolgic foods and such?"

Anri's smile played harmonically through her voice as she went on to describe the many different Belgian delicacies that her country was known for. Antonio remembered how she loved pastries and sweets ever since he met her in his freshman year. His mouth drooled at the mentioning of her home made waffles.

"Tony, I love catching up with you and all, but I need to talk with you seriously now." Anri's voice lowered an octive and her words become subtler with lesser jubilance. Antonio said okay.

"I want to come. Come to Rome?" Her words made a question mark. The Spaniard glided the tip of his index finger over his hand jewelry. The ring was cool to the touch.

"Um... to Italy? But you just got back from España to visit your family, don't you think that's a bit hasty?" Anri's reply made it sound like he didn't want her to come visit at all. "No no! I would love for you to come to Italy and stay with me. I'll look up flights for the next month or so and see if I can get a schedule running." 

"Actually I already made plans. I'll be arriving in Rome in a week. Ohhh I'm so excited to see where you are living at! The houses there must be gorgeous! Oh, and the deserts!" Antonio chuckled holding back tears. He was living in a cluttered apartment and his job was becoming torturous. How was he going to make it look like his life was doing better than okay?

"Oh, looks like my brother says he needs to use the phone, it must be really urgent! I'll try to get back to you! Hee hee. See you in seven days!"

"I love you, Tony."

"I love you too."

The call drops.


	7. I'll Never Call This Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember to gives kudos and comment!

Romano rested on the toilet seat in the men's restroom. His face looked utterly bored and his eyes drooped sleepily. Tapping his foot against the tile, he anxiously waited for the end of the period. 

"Watching paint dry would be more fun than this!" He exclaims. Then, as if the universe heard him, the bell rang. With a "Fuck ya!", he jumps up and flings the stall away from him, burst open the bathroom door and struts out of the school. Bigger teens and younger kids surround him on all sides, blocking his way to the exit. "Graagh! Move it, bastardos!" He spits and stands on his tiptoes over clusters of heads and torsos. All these bitches are in the way and they need to move. 

A large senior rushes into him on their way to the gym and knocks his duffle bag out of his hands; it fell to the floor with a crunch. "Noo!" Romano wailed and dropped to the ground pulling his bag inward toward his chest. Teens sidestepped Romano and two lines were formed around him. He frantically ripped open the carrier and smacked a hand to his lips. His tomato launcher that he had spent hours of rewinding YouTube tutorials to build the weapon was cracked all along the handle to the neck. "Rest in peace." He lamented, zipping the duffle bag up and slinging it over his shoulder once again. His head whipped around to glare in the direction of the dipshit who ruined his chance at double vengeance. The student was long gone.

"Fuck!" Was all he could say.

And if his day could get any better, the albino potato strolled up to him, even offering to give him a hand. The Italian smacked his hand away, hoping that it burned. "I don't need your fucking help!" Romano barked at Gilbert. Gilbert made a face of hurt and disappointment.

"I saw what happened. That douche ran you over and didn't even bother to say sorry. How not awesome." Gilbert said, shaking his head. Is he seriously trying to converse with Romano? He didn't bother to say sorry when he assaulted Nonno's Renault Clio! Pretentious little shit!

Romano shot blades at him with his olive eyes and made a hmph sound as he got up off of the floor and dusted his jeans with his palms. He decided he didn't even want to share a few more words with the creep, and so turned the other cheek and found a short path through the sea of highschoolers. But he couldn't help but turn back when a familiar voice sounded from his previous spot. It was his brother, Feliciano. God fucking dammit.

"Fratello, come back! let's walk home together! Pleeease?" Romano smacked a hand to his face and pulled on the skin with his fingernails, drawing them down his cheek like he was clawing his own face. He muttered a "fine!" much louder and more exasperated than a normal person would have mumbled, and with an irked expression turned back around to see a most frightful sight.

What. The. Fuck.

"What the fuck?!?" Romano burst aloud and stomped forward with a face drained of all the blood in his head. What had him furious was the impossible display before him of a haughty smug ass bastardo with his arm wrapped around FELICIANO! And Feliciano burying his head into the asswipe's CHEST! WHAT THE FUUUCK FRATELLO?

Romano, being the overprotective big brother that he was, stormed straight over to Gilbert and kneed him in the groin. Gilbert buckled over and clomped his hands on his dick shouting, "My vital regions!" over and over again and wallowing in pain. Feliciano gasped and gave Romano a disapproving look, but the elder Vargas disregarded it and grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward.

Feliciano whined, "Ow! You're pulling too hard. We have to go back and see if he's alright. Romano! Are you listening? Why did you do that? Why do you always do that?" Romano just kept dragging his brother to the exit, lips sealed. How dare he try and make a move on Feliciano! Fratello is so stupid and innocent, if he didn't have me around to watch after him who knows what might have happened? That German could have kidnapped him and held him prisoner at his house with the other potato bastard's help! I'll find one of my guys and have them sic the mafia on that son of a bitch. He'll pay! Romano's head grew full with angry thoughts and pandemonium, Feliciano's sounds of distress were blocked out entirely.

"Lovino!" His first name was called and that really got his attention. Feliciano had ripped himself out of his brother's grip, catching Romano by surprise. The Italian stared at his brother in disbelief. Feliciano's hair was messy and his curl cocked low to the side, sagging. His face was flushed and he looked out of breath. But his eyes... the honey dew color was toned to a dark and dolor river. Romano could hardly bare it.  

"What..." Romano lipped.

"Attention students to the intercom. Attention. Romano Vargas, please report to the principal's office. Romano Vargas, please report to the principal's office. Thank you." The intercom clicked and the old woman's voice was drowned out by a hundred other youths. The Vargas twins looked to the intercom and then back at each other, uncertain. Romano turned away as he cursed. Che palle! What the hell did I even do to be called over to the principal? Wh-what if they know I have a weapon with me in the school? Chigi!

Lost in his thoughts, he forgot Feliciano was even there. "Alright, let's go idiota." Romano stuck out his hand and felt nothing but thin air. Feliciano had bolted the second he turned away, and Romano, with a groan, could see his back disappearing into the crowd and returning to Gilbert. Well fuck you too.

Obviously today was not going to end the way he wanted it too, with Feliciano and him driving home and eating a shit ton of pasta, then falling asleep on the couch after watching hours of Disney movies dubbed in Italian. No, today was going to end terribly; and the principal's office was only the beggining.


	8. I'll Never Call This Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember to give kudos and comment!

With an unsettling churning in his gut, the Italian took to the principal's office. He traveled down a few flights of stairs till he reached the first floor. Many of his fellow peers were lingering in packs by sets of lockers and and lounging against walls by the exits. Most of them he did not recognize, but a few caught his eye. Elizabeta walked beside a taller, sophisticated looking lad with ebony hair and striking violet eyes behind lenses, he had a sort of pout on his face that would have distilled anyone who was nearby, but Elizabeta just laughed and continued to chat with him like he was telling a joke. They looked close, and not just in the literal sense. Romano wondered why anyone would want to spend time with such a sour puss, but hey, it's got nothing to do with him.

He oggled a few more of the students till his eyes discovered Francis, disgusting curls and all. He had an arm extended and pressed to a locker where he was blocking a frail and sensitive freshman. Romano quickly overted his gaze and sneered. That guy is desperate as hell. Does he have no shame? It sickened him the obsession to get into someone's pants that was the paradigm of his generation. At least Romano had some control when it came to those sorts of things. A couple of Play Boy magazines and he was good. Not that he didn't think about it less than any other seventeen year old did. He had a young, healthy body and it wasn't going to stay that way forever. Once, he had thought he wanted to go all the way with his girlfriend, but she broke it off before they could get that far. She said he was too insensitive and had serious daddy issues. He decided she was a bitch and never gave her reasons an after thought.

See, letting someone in can be scary. You'll never know what their reaction will be once they meet the real you. They could end up hating you, and in worst cases, abandoning you. Romano wouldn't go through with that, he wouldn't let that happen unless he had no control over it. So keeping to himself it was then.

Romano had been too busy lost in his thoughts to notice the many teachers who were watching him. Their stares burned at the back of his neck; so many scolding eyes on him. He smiled halfheartedly and gave a nervous wave as he passed by. This was getting very uncomfortable. More anxious than ever to reach the office, Romano speed-walked all the way there. His heart gave a cry when he pushed the door to the office open and slipped in. He placed a shakey hand on the wall, trying to breath in evenly. 

"Sit down, boy."

The elder Vargas spun around and the air became trapped in his throat, blood pumping to his face and arms. He dropped his bag. A mixture of red and a sickening pale color tainted his features. Behind the main desk decorated with picture frames and ordained in little trinkets teachers would pile their work spaces with, sat Principal Gerhart. He was stoic, strongly built with blonde hair that seperated into two braids and gave Romano a stone cold look that would have chilled him to the bone if his fixation wasn't elsewhere. 

Romano squeezed his fist till his knuckles were a fiery white and stomped over to Gerhard's right, shoving an accusational finger in front of him. "What the hell are you doing here?!" And of course by now we all know who he is talking about.

Antonio cocked his head ever so innocently. It only gave Romano more of a reason to shout. "Principal Gerhart, what is going on here?" What is this mindfuckery, why is Antonio here? I didn't want to see this bastard's stupid face again and now here he is right in front of me! Oh this had better be a joke! 

"You've been called here for a student-teacher conference. Now sit down. I won't ask you a third time." The Principal tapped his fingers on his desk irritably, and pointed to the lone seat by Antonio with his eyes. Romano's own eyes went arctic and he muttered a vaffanculo under his breath, but complied. He sat reluctantly with his head turned away from the Spanish teacher, arms and legs crossed displaying obvious choler. 

Gerhart cracked his knuckles before speaking. "Your grades in Mr. Fernández Carriedo's class are nothing short of unspeakable. Do you think this school is being payed to entertain future deadbeats?" Romano did not reply, it wasn't worth his time. But apparently Gerhart asked a question and he wanted an answer too. "Did I stutter? I expect you to answer when questioned."

"No, sir." Romano grumbled. 

Gerhart continued as if he didn't detect the disrespect in Romano's tone or choose to ignore it. "That's what I thought. It's good to see that we agree on something. Now, Mr. Vargas, you are already a month into school and you're failing tremendously in your second language. Have you anything to say on the matter?" A smirk played on his lips, but changed to a sneer when Romano stood up and actually turned to Antonio; Antonio's brows rose to the top of his forehead in surprise. The tsundere's ahoge spiked like a lightening bolt, little puffs of steam floating above his head.

"He's the culprit here! I can ace any Spanish class so long as I don't have to listen to him." Romano spat feverishly. Antonio made a face. Do you feel it, bastard? Do you?

"Sit down Vargas!" Gerhart slammed an angry fist on his desk and Romano flinched at the sight of the clenched hand, immediately falling back into his seat with a horrified expression. Antonio raised a hesitant hand, but quickly withdrew it as the principal started up again. "I reckoned you'd stir up trouble from the moment you set foot in this school. It runs in your blood. I knew Romulus from a very young age, always skipping out on his academics to go flirt and play with woman. You're just like your grandfather." 

The atmosphere seemed to get thicker and the air heavier as both teachers stared at Romano, waiting for some sort of outburst. something came over him then. 

"You don't know..." Romano was barely audible.

"You don't know who my grandpa is. You have no right to even speak about him!" Romano screamed. Tears were pushing past their boundaries, trying to escape like the rest of him. He covered his face with a hand and buried his head in his shoulder. He felt so naked, this wasn't suppose to happen. Two emotional break downs in one month? Why me why me why me why me-

He felt a firm hand squeeze his other shoulder, and he looked up to see Antonio smiling sympathetically. Why was he trying to comfort him? Romano squinted at him, snot running down his nose. Antonio's emerald gems were so full of warmth of compassion, Romano couldn't help but feel warm on the inside too. He flushed with embarrassment, but allowed Antonio's hand to stay there. Gerhart cleared his throat and the two snapped out of their little moment.

"Regardless, private tutoring must be arranged if you don't want to burden your parents with an unsatisfactory report card. Mr. Fernández Carriedo and I already discussed the potentials before your arrival. Mr. Vargas, you will accompany your teacher to his choice of study area every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday after school. You may not graduate the program until I see significant improvement. Clear your calander and be ready." 

This has to be a joke.


	9. I'll Never Call This Chapter 9

No no no! This cannot be happening. This has to be some sort of crazy dream. I'm dreaming, right? Please tell me I'm dreaming! 

"Tell me!" Romano pounded on the wall, a frame of his grandfather was hung above the fireplace and trembled and shook with the motion of his fists. He glowered at the photo of Romulus. The old man just kept grinning that same old happy-go-lucky smile, it aggravated his eldest grandson. 

Dammit!" Romano cursed as tears threatened to burst through the dam. "If you had been here... If you hadn't.." He sighed heavily and grabbed a chunk of his bangs, pulling it in a frustrated attempt to wake himself up. All the pain did was make him groan loudly at the uncomfortable sharpness on his scalp. 

"Fratello, you're scaring me. You're cursing under your breath and making weird noises." Feliciano came up from behind him with wrinkled brows and biting his lip. Romano watched him out of the corner of his eye. Feliciano had a whole inch over him. Wasn't it just ridiculous? Romano was older so how the hell did his younger brother outgrow him? Just another mystery of life, he supposed.

Romano pushed him aside and his younger brother stumbled, but didn't fall. The Vargas was not in the mood to talk. Today was THAT DAY. The highly anticipated and impending TUESDAY. Romano shivered, just sounding the world aloud in his head gave him goose bumps. The second he awoke in his bed at seven in the morning, his blood began to boil. He wouldn't have to look at Antonio's stupid face for an hour, no, he would to look at his stupid face for THREE. It was... THREE! THREEEE! AND EGBERT WAS HIS NA-

His ideas for exacting his revenge died out completely when his poor, beautifully designed Tomato Launcher was crushed to death by the shoes of an anonymous shit face. Lamentable, lamentable contraption, you will be avenged. 

Feliciano whined, "Ow! That was uncalled for, you know how weak I can be." Romano's olive gems went north, then east. Of course he knew his fratello was a tender, fragile thing. But he didn't care, or at least, he acted like he didn't.

"That's why I decided to shove you instead of completely knocking you to the ground, idiota." Romano said bitterly. Feliciano pursed his lips and was ignored as Romano opened the front door and left. He heard his brother call out to him about who was going to drive him to school. Feliciano could drive himself today. Romano was walking to school. 

I- it's not like I was thinking about what fratello said about walks, I just felt like doing it today is all! He reassured himself in his mind. And besides, being alone felt nice.

The school was not that far from his home, only seven blocks away. That may sound a bit like too much walking for most people, but Romano was a young guy with a healthy body and lots of time to spare. Lots of time.

He saw a patch of long green grass and kicked at it without much thought, it was a childish thing to do but in what ways are seventeen year olds not childish? Castro Pretorio had a busy scenery playing out like always, delicious aromas of international breakfasts beckoned Romano to come and dine. He hadn't eaten that morning, and it was tempting. 

A wave ran up his spine, and as he turned his olive eyes met a pair of lusty blue ones. He squinted. The bastard was grinning when Romano screwed up his face and flipped the man who was polishing a plate outside of the French restaurant off without a second thought, having the sense that he recognized that pervert from somewhere. Church, maybe?

Romano was reluctant to go to school for obvious reasons. Dammit, I should have faked being sick today. He mentally scolded himself for making the poor choice to go to school that day. There was probably enough time to run back to the home and lie to his brother that he didn't feel well, probably.

What the hell, did he actually want to see Antonio today? Romano's pulse jumped at this startling revelation. No way. The Italian shook his head in stark disbelief. Maybe he just wanted to make the bastard cry today, and that was it. Well, whatever the reason, he was going to school.

By the time Romano had arrived, he was so hungry that he was going to keel over. Cafeteria food did not sound appetizing. In fact, it made him want to barf, so he was steering clear of that area until it was time for lunch. Meandering the hallways, there wasn't much to look at besides the other students who were hanging around like flies on the wall. He resented them. He resented their friends. He resented they had friends. 

The older Vargas stopped in his tracks. Something so unimaginably delectable had purged the air of any other scent. This spice, this savory and irresistible aroma. He needed it. 

The heavenly fragrance emanated from a small office on Romano's left. But this was no ordinary office. Not at all. 

Romano gave a startling lurch as his eyes were plastered to the golden lettering on the wooden door. In the plate the unspeakable name was carved into the metal. His name.

"Oh my god I can't believe this!" Romano bitched aloud. This office was Antonio's office! Which meant that whatever scrumptious, mouthwatering goodness sitting in there would definitely not being going into Romano's stomach. Period.

The pit of him rumbled a loud objection, he needed food or he would probably die. Romano backed away slowly and pretended he hadn't noticed the office or swore loudly after he read the words on the door. Romano cautiously peeked left and right to assure himself the coast was clear. He couldn't let himself starve to death, but he couldn't let himself get caught by some unsuspecting teacher or student either.

He kept his presence under wraps by edging slowly and stealthily toward the room when there were no passing witnesses. Romano made a grab for the handle and choked when it didn't turn. The idiot had actually remembered to lock his own office. That bitch.

The lock didn't pose a problem, if he could pick pocket people without having them feel a thing then he could most definitely pick a lock. It was the higher percentage in his chances of being caught in the act that made him have palpitations. Romano already figured he would need to unlock doors in his early childhood, so he always had a stash of hairpins to cover him. He withdrew a pin from his duffle bag, then peaked around hesitantly once more. 

Am I really going to do this? 

He must! For his stomach! Romano fiddled methodically with the pin in the small opening of the knob. He shook the bent pin and kneaded it in the lock until finally his ears heard the slight click. This click almost brought tears of joy to him, but the reward inside was calling for him. Come to me.

Romano slipped into Antonio's study. There was simple furniture and the whole space was littered in papers. Romano never expected that Antonio would be disorganized, though it would make sense considering Antonio was such an airhead. But it wasn't like he was interested in his cleaning habits or anything! What interested him was what lay on the desk. He began to melt. It was food. Delicious, angelic food... which was made by Antonio? He still couldn't believe he was stealing a bite of what the bastard had touched with his bare hands.

It was a simple dish of round potato balls with savory pork stuffed within, and greens on the side, commonly known as Cuchifritos. Romano was sure the flavor was exquisite. He wasted no time in pulling a piece of the dish off and plopping it in his mouth. 

"Holy mother of go-"

His tastebuds exploded with flavor. He squealed in delight, sighing and wondering why the hell Antonio's cooking was so good. "It's too good you bastard... too good even for you." Romano mumbled crisply between chewing. He pulled out a few more Cuchifritos to devour, but they didn't come close to his lips. 

There were footsteps near the door.


	10. I'll Never Call This Chapter 10

He stood there for three seconds. The Junior Spanish teacher with a vanilla cappuccino mug in his hand ceased all voluntary movements. The warm flow of air from the cup was blown away by Antonio's loud gasp.

The door to his office was unlocked.

"¡Qué fuerte!" Antonio exclaimed. He stumbled inside expecting to see drawers falling off their hinges and chairs flung across the room, but there was no visible destruction and he placed a hand on his rib cage, exhaling hot relief. Maybe he had actually just forgotten to lock the room before he left to get a drink from the teacher's lounge after all, though he swore he remembered locking it up.

The sunken rock at the pit of his stomach urged him to continue looking around, the intuitive restlessness in his gut that told him he had to have locked the door, and that someone really had broken into his office. He couldn't ignore these feelings, nor place them either. 

And that was when he discovered the Cuchifritos embezzled. The dish was mostly intact, with some of the plump potato balls missing and crumbs lining the edge of the plate where the thief had consumed their third helping. Although this was no joking matter, with his own school office being robbed and all, he began to chuckle a bit. His shoulders shook and he arched his back as the bubbling came in waves. Of all the things a crook could want, his Cuchifritos! 

They could have taken anything in his room, like his gold medals hanging proudly on the walls which he'd won in a few cooking competitions. But no, they were just hungry and couldn't resist a homemade meal like his. Perhaps he needn't tell on the burglar, if they were only wanting a bite to eat then maybe Antonio had done something good. Like charity. The thought made a warmth pool inside of him and he hugged himself lovingly.

A dumb smile on his lips and cheeks, the Spaniard was in no way wary that he may still be in the company of the person who stole off of his plate. He fell back into the hues of a deep tangerine armchair, rolled his neck and shoulders, stretched his legs under the desk and wiggled his toes inside two worn ebony flats. He felt incredibly cozy, and the area where his feet rested was warm.

"This is so snug, I'm glad they started turning on the heaters in the schools now." He eased. It was a pleasant morning for him, even after the whole robbery ordeal, which didn't hinder his ability to see the silver lining of life in the slightest. The tight grip in his hand reminded him that he was holding his mug of coffee, and he tipped the cup back and lavished his tongue with the hot and steamy liquid. 

He wiped the brown residue that was left from the rim of the mug off of his upper lip with the back of a tan hand. 

 

"Sí. Today is that day, eh?" 

Yeah, today is that day. Antonio was quite nervous about tutoring Romano Vargas, he was prepared as a teacher, but the man inside of him felt unease. Tense. Distracted. 

"When did I become so out of touch with the chaval? Hey, I used to be a kid too! I remember wanting to play outside till the moon outshone the sun, and do street performances with one guitar for Euros before I could work." He said exasperated, not concealing the distress in his own voice as he was alone.

He bit the inside of his cheek, then began to stack the sheets distributed on his worktable. Antonio payed no mind to which papers went into which stack, he just needed something to take his mind off of it. 

"I could take him to my apartment to study... no wait, my apartment is incredibly dirty. I wouldn't want anyone to see the mess I've made. That might be an inappropriate location anyways..." The image of his living room blanketed in white sheets, the dishes hoarding in the sink. The closet. Oh god the closet. Antonio's brows merged together and a uncharacteristic frown snuck on his youthful features.

"I've got it!" Antonio sprung up, no longer bearing such a self-conflicting expression, his glass emeralds blinked excitedly. "I'll take us to a delicious restaurante, one where we can dine and study my mother language. You'll love it Roma, I swear!" 

He plopped back in his seat, the man in him certain that the tutoring would be an enjoyable experience for the both of them. As enjoyable a time as a teacher and their student could spend together, at least. 

"Ay, he really is some work, isn't he? The other teachers did warn me about how problematic he was in class, not doing his work, and apparently he's very clumsy? Pff.." Antonio bursts a bit, cupping his mouth with a hand. 

"That's pretty cute..."

"..."

"Que? QUE? What did I just say? Ahaha, I obviously meant that I would find that pretty cute in any of my students. They're kids so of course they'd be clumsy, and kids are cute. Oh god what am I saying?" 

Antonio knew that he was alone, and yet tried to correct himself like he was speaking in front of the public. He knew he was flushed, but it was definitely out of embarrassment for his little slip up. He would try to forget everything that was said in the school office, but the hot blush on his cheeks would not allow him to forget, and so he didn't. 

The man in him grew restless again.


	11. I'll Never Call This Chapter 11

One word repeated itself in his mind. Only one word, two vowels and two consonants. 

Cute...

He said I'm cute, heh. Actually, he said my being clumsy was cute.

...

Che palle!

Romano did not know how much longer he could keep holding his breath, thankfully he did not have to wait before the sounds of clacking on tile and a sharp click from the lock relieved the snakes coiling around his lungs inside his chest. He gasped like a fish out of water, nausea and dizziness hitting him with a double whammy, and not to mention the fire spreading around his ears and neck, and burning the tip of his nose a dark cherry.

It was this inexplicable feeling like wild flames in the hollows of his breast, crawling up the long wall and forcing its way out of his throat without hesitation. 

"SICK PERVERT!"

Romano sprang free from the cramped space beneath Antonio's desk, a dulled aching in his limbs from being stuck in one position for twenty minutes was considered the lesser of two evils between minor body aches and being caught by the bastard himself. He didn't even think this was worth it anymore. Dammit, I should've just starved. I should've just eaten the cafeteria horse shit and gotten it over with-

Then Romano glanced again at the newly wrapped leftovers of his spoils, they really were irresistible. Still, none of this was worth it. This sick feeling in his gut that he had just stepped into some heavy shit, and there was no way he was getting out of it because it was already neck deep only strengthened that overwhelming urge to hurl.

... So why the hell was he smiling like a god damned idiot?

The Italian pursed his lips, but his dimples continued to crinkle up into red little ornaments. To heck with it. The smile would stay. Romano edged close to the inside of the door, creeping silently as best he could. He needed to stay fully alert on escaping the office without being discovered by some unsuspecting bystander. If he did? Well, it would get nasty for sure.

First, he crouched down to the floor and peeked through the bottom crack to spy any pairs of shoes passing by. His sight was limited here, so he went on to press his ear to the wood. There was the slick sound of sneakers making his heart tremble a little against his chest, but it was far from the office that hid him. The sneakers distanced themselves further, and then there were no more sounds or noises coming from the hallway. It was his lucky day.

Romano's hand wavered in brushing the shiny knob that still held the warmth of Antonio's touch. He twisted the door knob slowly and with the greatest caution, and finally stepped aside as he dared to open the door just an inch. Another inch. Five inches. 

He slipped out of the office room and was relieved to follow a sharp turn to freedom-

"And where do you think you're running off to, Vargas?" 

Shit.

Romano could recognize that voice from anywhere. He tripped on the words tumbling out of his mouth and his face went pale and wan. 

Gilbert.

"Ah, I've been caught!" Romano yelped and tried to make a run for it, but was cornered back toward the office door by the red-eyed bastard. "You will leave me the hell alone and say nothing about what you saw if you know what's good for you. I've got connections with people who can fuck you up." He steamed and darted his head around for any means of escape or loopholes out of this crisis.

"Pff, you're like a little bunny rabbit when you threaten people. Hey, look at this guy! He's practically a volcano. Oh no! Romano's been caught sneaking into Mr. Fernando Carriedo's private room and he's gonna eruuup-" 

The elder Vargas threw his hands upon Gilbert's lips to silence him. His furious olive gems glared North at a pair of mischievous garnets. 

"Shhh!" Romano shushed him and pulled him over to a janitor's closet hidden from the public eyes of the school. When the door was shut Romano turned around after removing his hands and rubbing them on his pants, disgustedly. The taller one snickered, musing at this situation that he had gotten himself into. Romano grumbled, "You must be one hell of an idiot to speak so loud after I told you what was up, what the hell do you want?" 

Gilbert cocked his head, he had not really thought about the possibility that he could get something out of Romano. As he contemplated, Romano tapped his foot impatiently. "I can't believe I am trying to make a compromise with this potato." The shorter one ran two fingers through his light brown bangs revealing dipped brows.

"Lightbulb!" Gilbert shouted so enthusiastically it made Romano jump. The potato bastard's eyes lit up with a nerve-racking grin embedded in the twins. "Become my slave."

"W- what the- hell fucking no! Who do you think you are trying to order me around and asking for something so impossible-"

A piece of paper crinkled its way into his now obscured vision. "The fuck is this?" Romano stepped back until his eyes refocused and the slip of paper became a photo of him. And this was no ordinary photo taken by a real life stalker, it was him sneaking out of Antonio's study with the biggest idiotic grin. 

Romano snatched at the evidence but it was quickly pulled away. "G-give it to me!" Romano jumped pitifully as he tried to snag the snapshot dangling above him by Gilbert's hand.

"Swiper no swiping." The Albino clicked his tongue three times and waved his other index finger like a mother scolding her child. Who knew teasing Mr. Permanently Red-faced could be this much fun?

"Having fun?" Romano griped, hands dropping to his sides and the familiar scowl plastered on his lips.

"A ton." Gilbert replied. He continued to dangle the photo closer to Romano's face.

"Are you done yet?"

"Not even close. So, how soon should I go report this to the school administrators? You seemed to be awfully giddy about committing the crime, kesesese." Gilbert leaned against a mop and had the smugiest smug on his ugly face that just begged to be smacked off. It was the optimum bait to lure in the fish. Romano being the fish, in this case.

"Fuck, please don't tell, I'll become your god damned slave if you will shred that photo to a million pieces! Just don't tell the school. E-even if you did I'd have my mafia on you in a flash so..." Romano's head turned away and he grew a nice shade of pink. 

Snap.

"I thought we weren't taking anymore photos!" The Tsundere fumed and pounded his fists against Gilbert's chest and the Polaroid camera, angrily. The silver hair laughed, and replied, "What, is the master not allowed to take pictures of his bondsman? I promised that I wouldn't give any of these to the administration, so what should it matter if I keep a few?"

"A few, you mean there's more?!"

Gilbert put a finger to his lips, ignoring the background noise of whines and groans from Romano, and grinned inwardly at the small snapshot in his hand of his new friend turned unyieldingly and an embarrassed blush rubricating his cheeks, knowing there were more of these fun memories to be had.


	12. I'll Never Call This Chapter 12

Roma, you're fidgeting quite a lot, feeling tense? Try massaging yourself, it can really help loosen you up."

"Don't go around saying creepy shit like that to people, dumb ass."

Hours after Romano Vargas had unwillingly become a "slave" of his mortal enemy no.3, he was escorted away by the last person he would have liked to see that day. They met at the Julius Caesar statue, albeit Antonio was a bit late. That was good news for Romano though, because the more time his Spanish teacher wasted, the less time he would have to spend with him. 

Antonio insisted on doing the driving, which caused many objections to fly off his pupil's tongue, complaints like,"I can drive myself, you know!" And, "My brother is gonna get Nonno's car double-wrecked!" And especially, "Is this even legal?"Although Antonio did not follow that last one. They drove away from the green hills and high stories of Giulio Cesare, entering the familiar neighborhood district which housed the Vargas residence. 

The angsty teen who no longer had a blue bump on his forehead stared out the window surveying the non-foreign sights, he crossed his arms obstinately over Italia stitching sewn on the front of his sweater and his body leaned away from the driver. All of a sudden, the younger one whipped around to yell back at the man who operated the vehicle. "Hey, this is my neighborhood, you know! If you really wanted to do the god damn tutoring at my house, you could have just car pooled with me, err... not like I'd let you set one foot on my property, just so you know. How do you know where my house is, anyways?" 

He gasped loudly.

"Have you been stalking me?" 

Romano's eyes voiced a cold fear that drained all the blood in his face as he looked towards Antonio for a reply. The car slowed, Antonio neared the traffic light as it swapped colors, its warning orange becoming a halting red. 

"Que? Of course not, Roma. Ehh, you live around here? Castro Pretorio is a wonderful place, I've gone to the restaurants here more times than I could count, you must be one lucky kid to live in walking distance," Antonio chimed. He had a big ass grin as usual from where Romano was sitting, although he did not look at the the boy when he was speaking. That could be for a number of reasons though, drivers needed to be conscientious at all times while behind the wheel, especially when a minor was with them.

Oh yeah, he was taking me on some study da- session at a restaurant, how professional that seems. Hmph. 

"But of all the places you had to choose, you went straight for somewhere that I would feel more comfortable, right?"

"Well, now that I know you live here, that would be the obvious thing to do, better than taking you to my little apartment, um." Romano could see Antonio's throat bounce like a bobber signaling the fish had taken the bait as he swallowed dryly on the word. Why the hell was that bastard so damn rigid today? 

"A-anyways, that was the plan! I thought that we could practice español and eat food, I heard it helps to stimulate the brain if you eat while you work. Wanna give it a shot?" Antonio seemed way too excited for this as he pulled into a small parking lot filled mainly with bikes, really overly-happy about the whole situation. It was almost as if he was trying too hard to make this enjoyable. 

"That's fucking creepy. You're the only one who's going cheerleader over this annoying thing the principal forced us into. I know you want to spend as little time with me as possible just like the rest of them, so can we cut the crap and get it over and done with?" Romano furiously unlocked his side of the door and began exiting the car, his last words in the vehicle had become less of a voice and more of a dejected breath. Antonio followed him out the side of his door.

"Huh?" His dark eyebrows bent. "The rest of them? But it's just the two of us." The Spaniard drew a long breath, he had grabbed onto Romano's pinky for only a moment as he said this, then the butterflies flew free. One touch was all it took to descend the fervent blush upon both their surprised faces. Romano withdrew his hand more strongly than necessary, his fingers now curled into a fist. Antonio noticed this, but pretended nothing awkward had just happened between then, and that his student's reaction was not cute at all, and that he wasn't thinking about cleaning up his apartment properly so perhaps he could come over.

"You're buying!" Romano hollered over his shoulder and the pace that he was walking in looked more like he was trying to run away from the guy. Ughh, my heart is beating so fucking loud right now- I think I'm gonna puke or something. A fever? Or... fuck, it's that sickness again. It's gotta be!

"R-Roma, please wait up!" Antonio desperately called from across the lot, but Romano kept his rudolf nose and his tomato cheeks foreword with each step in sync with the hammering beat in his chest. The sign Avant la Floraison hung like the welcoming arms of a friend above his head, but who came to greet him from the pine wood doors was the creep he had spotted on his walk to school the morning that now seemed so far away.


	13. I'll Never Call This Chapter 13

The lecherous tourmaline gems of the blonde regarded the smaller boy with the puffed out cheeks and mortified expression pressed into his collarbone. Romano had walked straight into a stranger for the likes of him, and as he glanced up petulantly and saw those two eyes lap up his frame over and over again he stumbled backwards and onto his butt. 

A long, creamy white hand outstretched its fingers to grab hold of Romano's, which he fiercely slapped away. 

"Ahh, look at what we have here. Is this Monsieur Tomate who did not wish to share his vegetables with me? Ohonhon, come to apologize to me, have we?" Oh for the love of God.

Blocking the entrance to what the Italian now realized was a French restaurant Antonio had chosen as the location of their study da- session, another asshole he could not have possibly imagined meeting outside of school eyed him most unfathomably.

Romano, still keeping his olive eyes glaring warily at the French transfer student, stood up to brush off his bum and knees. Why now, of all times did he have to run into this asshole?

"Hell no you delusional dick!" Romano barked back, trying to squeeze past the small opening to the shelter inside Avant La Floraison. Francis wouldn't budge.

"Bastard must be deaf too. You wanna go? Move out of the way, I can't be stuck here for long or I'll be found!" Romano had shouted with a questionable meaning at the end of his tongue, which made things all the worse because now the creep ogling him was even more intrigued. 

Francis crossed his arms as he unyielded to stepping aside, and smirked as he said, "Who is making you run into the arms of Big Brother Francis?" Just as Romano was about to rid the guy of his smile, a tan hand cupped his shoulder from behind.

"Thaaat would be me, hehehe. Roma, what do you think? It's a delicious restaurant close to your home. Shall we umm... hmm, go inside?" An awkward and hesitant Antonio tried to usher Romano into the local restaurant, but Francis stopped him with a hand.

"Tony?"

"Francis?" Antonio echoed back, a smile breaking through. 

"My Proffeseur, Bonjour!" Francis grabbed the man's tanned hand and shook it with enthusiasm. He dared to bring the hand to his lips, and, oh god no, he did not just do that.

Antonio flushed a happy surprise at the affectionate greeting of his pupil. Romano's nose crinkled and he rocked impatiently on his toes. His eyes were suddenly drawn to the shiny object wrapped around Antonio's ring finger... could it be...?

Whatever! Even if it was... "that" it didn't matter to Romano, who cares right? He totally didn't. Nuh-uh. Nope.

"And is he your date?" Francis nudged Romano out of his inner dialogue of denial, only to awaken to an even more embarrassing reality. As soon as Francis had suggested what Romano had been inwardly fearing this whole time, the Spaniard and the Italian locked eyes with one another and a complete look of horror flashed upon both their faces.

"No no, it's not like that at all," Antonio waved Francis's question away looking quite uncomfortable. "You see I am his teacher-"

"No!" Romano cut in heatedly, repositioning himself with little fisted balls of his palms at his sides and an agitated twitch of his nose. This was absolute humiliation. He launched at Antonio, voice like crackling thunder, " It's you who got me into this mess, you- you bastard! Grr-Shit! I can't even speak- ughh!" Romano failed to express himself without blowing up like a little kid who's toy had been taken away. At this point he felt defeated, but what game was the game he was loosing at? 

Francis, bemused and not wanting to be any part of this awkward-tension battle, had retreated with small slippery steps into the restaurant like the coward he was, and so Romano was once again left alone with his teacher/nemesis/date- nope, definitely not that last one. Antonio had fixed his emerald gaze upon the little erect curl bent slightly in different directions attached to the boy's head. Wonderful, everything had become so awkward in a matter of a seconds. 

 

"Well?" Romano, who still was flushed from head to toe, snapped his fingers hotly in front of his Spanish teacher's blank stare. "Say something!" If he could see his face right about now, Romano Vargas would have said he looked desperate. He just needed to be acknowledged that he had spoken. He didn't want to be ignored anymore. Please fucking say something for the love of everything made of noodles and red fruits that should be labeled vegetables-

Antonio blinked after the twelfth time Romano had snapped his fingers, only seconds from loosing his cool and getting both of them kicked off the premises. How were they even allowed to loiter this long? 

The Spaniard took a lengthy breath through his nostrils, mouth opening and closing as he steadied his thoughts. Then, lifting his emerald beryls from the silver cement to once again unwaveringly face Romano's own olive green.

Here it is. Romano chewed on anticipation. Hit me, bastardo. Speak!

"... I think you should take anger management."


	14. I'll Never Call This Chapter 14

There was never such a strong urge to hit Antonio as Romano was experiencing now. But there existed a table between them that limited said violent urges. Romano hid his face behind a golden menu and flexed his balled-up fingers upon his thighs. His teacher was across from him, just as fidgety and tense as his pupil. Everything went from an awkward "Let's at least try talking to one another" to "I can't even look you in the face" awkwardness that sunk in as soon as the mood from outside changed with the inner scenery of the restaurant. 

Avant La Floraison was unfathomably sappy on the inside. This was a restaurant for lovers. Couples in every booth leaned close to each other's ears and whispered fondly of their partners. Some lifted food off their plates and spoon-fed their significant other. What the hell was Antonio thinking taking Romano to a place like this, what if he got the wrong idea? That's probably it, then, Antonio wasn't thinking at all. The idiot. 

It wasn't an ugly sight to the eyes if you subtracted the people, as the employees had cultivated every wall and table to perfection. Maybe it was nice having the senses lavished with sweet aromas and a myriad of white flora sprouting from long vases. A live harp fluttered in and out of Romano's eardrums, melodically. He could get used to this if there were a few sweet cherry tomatoes on a shiny platter for him. But with Antonio? Forget it. 

Being around him made Romano so... hyper-sensitive and aware of things like the upping heart beat in his chest and the highway of thoughts in his mind, which may or may not have been consumed by the face of a certain someone. Every syllable that came out of Antonio's lips from that mellow voice seemed to make something vibrate in him. It felt disgusting, it felt fearfully new to him. It felt amazing, but he would never admit it. 

Romano slammed a fist on the table.

The lit candle and flower vase between them rattled, and Antonio jumped and peered at him cautiously like meeting the eyes of an aggravated wild dog, his ruby lips stretched into a tight smile. Romano caught his anxious stare and all too quickly felt like the blood was leaking from his head and into his face. His reactions were always painted right there on his cheeks, and all he could do to hide them was divert his olive eyes Earth-ward as swiftly as they had met with the Spaniard's green. All the curses in the world; the blush was still visible.

"What is it, Roma?" Antonio slid a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed his fingers along his hairline. His chocolate tangles looked so fun to run fingers through, or stroke, or- stop! Romano forced himself to cease the flushed ganders he took at his teacher. 

"Come on, let's study this crap, eat some food and go! I can't sit here all day, I'll die of boredom and you will be the one to blame. You! And my brothe- no, somebody will sue you! We, the Vargas family have a lot of money that can run you dry!" His throat burnt after the release of pent-up frustration he had thrown into shouts, and the Italian leaned forward and snatched at the water glass near his arm to chug it all in one go. Pairs of eyes turned to look at Romano and Antonio with scold flavoring their tongues. Shit! Ignore them ignore them ignore them.

The man across from him gaped, and surprisingly, his smile lit up and a playful gleam flashed in his glass emeralds. Somehow, Romano had done something good, because his outburst eradicated the awkward silence and reminded Antonio of his motivations and goals for that day- to tutor Romano so that he may excel at Español! Now Antonio didn't have to feel like he was failing as a teacher!

"Yes! Definitely, let's get this tutoring started. I've brought with me some of my finest tools..." Antonio had along side him a small yellow pack brimming with textbooks, picture books, and even popular Spanish novels by demand. He really stocked up his gear for this T-T.  
Over-enthusiastic much? 

"Your classmates have been working on conversational skills with the different relationships we become involved in within our community. Here are some examples of how we greet people who are strangers." Then he added after a pause, "Oh, and don't worry about the meal, I'll be paying as I brought you here without warning you about needing money." Oh god that is so predictable what are you trying to say here? During the session, Antonio spoke in his native tongue, and although Romano didn't completely understand what he was saying, Spanish was just a fucking sensual language, and it didn't help how Antonio was leaned over so that their faces were closer and his lips created sounds flowing directly into Romano's ears. It didn't help at all with the vibratory sensations doing the tango down his spine. 

They continued on. 

"¿Qué tal? Mi casa es su casa?" Romano read from the textbook and repeated in his own Italian accent. Antonio nodded his head in approval. They dived into more complex sentences and dialogues while the waiters came by to offer refreshments. It was strange how Romano had slipped into an almost comfortable state, even when being forced to sit across from the enemy and work with each other. 

"Well well, you two are hard at the work." That gross narcissistic blonde was back with a note pad and pen in hand. His smile hinted at hidden agendas. He looked between both of them, who were practically sitting on top of the table, and no doubt what thoughts were popping in his mind crossed over the borderline of PG13. 

Romano could not fight the immediate rosiness when reality smacked him hard with a red bouquet, they were way too close to each other to be normal, and now they looked like any other group of two in the damn restaurant. Great. Wonderful. Perfecto! 

Romano pushed Antonio away, loudly cursing at the cliche scenario that had unfolded. Che palle! I let my guard down to this bastardo, Sono un idiota! 

"My bad, gentleman. I wished I didn't have to interrupt this tender moment between the two of you, but I must if I am to get payed. My Proffeseur, what would you find pleasing to the tastebuds at this hour?" Francis clicked the ball-point pen and tested the ink on the note pad while he waited. 

"Ah yes, I'm feeling spontaneous. Bring me something that's... delicious!" Antonio chimed in. Francis nodded to Antonio, then finished what orders he had written down and turned to the slumped brunette who muttered curses under his breath. 

"And for your... what do I even call you?"

"Student?" Romano squinted at Francis combatively, daring him to say it. His suggestion was not rejected, but covertly challenged. 

"Right... Student. Hon hon hon." Francis's smug look splashed oil all over the fire that was crackling beneath Romano's skin. He was gonna Fight him. Right now-

Antonio waved his hands between them as he sensed something was about to go down, "Muchachos, calm yourselves! Roma, you have never been here, I assume, but I saw you really focusing on the menu earlier so I'm guessing you've probably made your choice? Go ahead and tell him what you would like." Antonio nudged Romano's menu.

Romano became pink and pale at the same time. No, he had not been intently focused on the menu earlier. In fact, he had barely given a thought to eating in that moment because his mind was snagged upon a single concept, the one that lay right in front of him and was ever so distracting. 

Francis and Antonio watched his face and he knew he needed to choke up some random French delicacy so he wouldn't look like a mute idiot. He'd never even had real French food before.

"Uh, yeah I'll have a... um... a-croissant." Romano crossed his arms and nodded to himself as he pretended he knew exactly what he was talking about. Francis scoffed, then. What the heck was that?

"Just a croissant? Monsieur, you can get a mere croissant anywhere. I would advice you decide on something else that really brings out the flavor of Avant La Floraison." This was a discussion Romano did not want to be having. He became belligerent then. 

"Yes, I want a fucking croissant! Now can you get away?" Francis was interrupting a very important study session between Antonio and him, yes, just a study session. Just them. Not Francis.

"Alright alright," the waiter gave in. "I'll write it down that you want the damn croissant, but just so you know, I am judging you." Francis stuck up his nose and flipped back his hair with a hand as he left through the kitchen doors. Jesus, what a pompous twat. 

Antonio became giggly after Francis's performance. That wasn't funny! How could he laugh on command like that? And why was it so contagious???

Romano slapped a hand to his mouth when the first squeak popped out. This wasn't funny at all, Romano should be feeling horrible right now as he's stuck in this position. Strangely, this one-on-one interaction with Antonio wasn't torturous? Maybe even a little bit tolerable?

Romano controlled his expression as best he could, he wouldn't let the enemy know that a smile was breaking out on his face. He forced himself to scowl, closely resembling the natural "Bitch Face" that he wore. It didn't stop that soft jitter in his core, though.

"Okay, now that we've ordered, we can go back to practicing. I want you to read through some dialogues in these novels here and see what you make of them. Feel the natural flow of the language as you read. Okay, Roma?" 

Romano shrugged his shoulders. Meh.

Antonio brought out a pastel-colored book with the cover detailing a darker girl with pink highlights looking out into the night, almost longing for the shadows surrounding her.

Oh, so Antonio was some sort of teen novel freak? He can't possibly be a chick lit fanboy, that's not normal.   
***  
Él desaparece en la oscuridad. dejándome solo , pero yo llame para él.

"Amador, ¡no te vayas!"

Amador hace una pausa, y se da la vuelta . Él mira su luz en el mundo.

"Dani, ¡te amo!"   
***  
"What is this? And this? This too?" Romano pointed to the last two words in the book. Antonio bent down to read it, and immediately went pink. 

"Wh-what? You won't say it?"

"I'll say it! I-it means I love you."

 

AN:   
Spain's a romantic, what can I say? My head canon is that he reads romantic Spanish novels in his free time lol

This was a long ass chapter

Translations for Chick Lit: 

He disappears into the dark. Leaving me alone. I call to him. 

"Amador, don't go!"

Amador pauses, and turns around. He looks at his light in the world. 

Dani, I love you!"  
\-------------------------------

The song "Like Someone in Love" by Björk is the "live harp" Romano is hearing~ check it out~


End file.
